Just Another Night at Fazbear's Fright
by DeltaV
Summary: Thirty years after the closure of the infamous Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, the local amusement park Adventure Park is ready to celebrate Halloween with the premiere of a brand new attraction: Fazbear's Fright. After searching for artifacts for years, they finally found something big... Rated T for "Precision F Strikes" and some other coarse language. Basically PG-13.
1. Prologue: Coming Attraction

**Prologue: Coming Attraction**

"C'mon Coop, just give up the goose already. There's nothing left here," Joe Kang said, picking around the ruins of the dilapidated pizzeria.

"'Nuh-uh, man, this _has_ to have something good. Give me the crowbar, Jeff," Cooper Matthews replied, holding his hand out behind him. The metal tool was pushed into his grip, and he swung it around himself to bring it in front of the obstacle before him.

Said obstacle was, quite simply, a door, and almost completely covered with boards. Curtains had been draped across, sitting at the very back corner of what remained of Pirate's Cove. Cooper had been searching for something like this for months.

As manager and project leader of the Fazbear's Fright attraction, which was currently being constructed as a part of Adventure Park's Halloween Spooktacular, the young man had taken it upon himself to find as much authentic Fazbear memorabilia as possible. So far, it hadn't borne much fruit. Bits and pieces of costumes, some posters, a desk, a rusted out hook belonging to the Foxy character, a guitar, small things like that, but nothing that would really bring in the crowds. No, Cooper wanted Fazbear's Fright to be more than just a scary maze, he wanted it to be an _experience._ And this could be what made that happen.

With a grunt of exertion, Cooper rammed the crowbar into a gap between two planks, and with the help of this gap as leverage, wrenched the first board out of where it was nailed to the doorframe. He repeated this process two more times, before stopping and wiping sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.

Joe and Jeff, brothers whose parents had been a fan of alliteration, stepped forward with tools of their own, and soon enough the three men tore off enough boards to give the door behind it enough room to open. It swung outward, revealing a pitch-black room, the gutted restaurant's lights no longer functional.

Cooper, Joe, and Jeff aimed their headlamps, the beams sweeping over the room, barren except for a lone figure sitting slumped against the far wall. Closer inspection revealed a dirty, ragged yellow suit, mechanical limbs, and scattered wires.

A huge grin broke over Cooper's face and he turned to his partners.

"We found one!" he said.

 **That Night**

Truman Keyes sat awkwardly in his post inside the Fazbear's Fright attraction, drumming his fingers on his desk, trying to avoid staring out the window it sat against. He had just gotten a job as a night guard, and he had been assigned to the attraction. It actually sat outside the walls of the actual amusement park itself, being an attraction with separate admission, hence why he was now sitting in the chair. To his right sat a desk, upon which sat a metal fan (which was currently spinning happily), some trash, and three figures of a rabbit, bear, and duck. Next to that was a trash bin, which had several pieces of crumpled paper inside of it. And next to _that_ was a cardboard box filled with… well, stuff. They looked like discarded props from some kind of kid's place. Cooper Matthews, Truman's new boss, and his team had apparently found every single artifact. The man was obsessed with a decades-old restaurant called Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, of which this attraction was based on. Truman sat up a bit straighter, nervously rubbing his arm. He had heard of it.

According to urban legends, Freddy Fazbear's was once a cheerful children's restaurant, the highlight of which was their animatronic characters, who were beloved by nearly every child that ever stepped through the doors. But then things went wrong. A serial killer lured several children to their deaths, stuffing them inside the costumes the animatronics wore. Then things went downhill. An animatronic went haywire, and murdered a patron, and many a night guard disappeared from the building without a trace. Some say the spirits of the children murdered haunted the place and possessed the animatronics to enact revenge on their killer. Still others claim the place to be cursed by the devil himself, using the robots to enact his evil agenda. At least, that's what the stories claimed.

It had been thirty years, a decade before Truman was born, since the restaurant was shut down, and later ravaged by fire not more than a week later. This information had been obtained from the newspaper clippings that were on display in the queue. Authorities deemed the cause arson, but a suspect was never found. But back to the point at hand…

Truman was stuck working in a haunted house. He _hated_ horror and hated being scared. It didn't matter if it was a movie, a videogame, or even just stupid ghost stories told around a scout's campfire. But when he decided to move out on his own, he needed a job to help pay the bills, and this was the only place that said yes. The guard pulled up the camera monitor, looking at the empty halls lined with various frightening imagery and next to no lights. He shivered.

 _And now I'm a part of this whole thing_ , he thought, setting the camera screen to the side. Cooper had left him a message on the old answering machine ("It's authentic! It got yanked, like, _straight_ out of the old place!" he had said), happily rattling off the latest batch of "artifacts" and explaining his latest idea.

"You're gonna be part of the show, bud! The guests'll start on the opposite side of the building, get introduced to the whole thing, blah, blah, blah, and wander on down past you before heading out," Cooper explained, "So be sure to practice your screaming, heh-hah!"

 _Tool_ , Truman thought with a sigh, and jumped when the phone rang. He answered it, confused.

"Hello?" he asked.

" _Hey, man, what's up? I had to call you!_ " Cooper greeted, " _Dude, dude, you're not going to believe this: we found one!_ "

"Found one what? A uniform?" he asked.

" _Nah, bro, we've got, like, eight of those things. What do you think you're wearing?_ " Cooper replied, " _Better: We found an animatronic, a real one! It was in some freaky back room at the old place. It's totally out of juice, but we plugged it in, so don't worry. We'll figure out if it still works tomorrow, 'cause it's beat to hell. That's a big find, man, so like, guard it with your life, heh-hah!_ "

"Why you gotta say stuff like that?" Truman whined.

" _Part of the charm, man, part of the charm,_ " Cooper chuckled, " _Anyway, I gotta go. Oh, I found some training tapes, and this old journal. Left 'em in the drawer for you, thought it'd, like, relieve the boredom or something. Toodles!_ " And Cooper hung up.

Truman put the handset back in the cradle, then looked to the still-spinning fan that had also come from the restaurant.

"Might be worth it," he told the fan, and pulled the large desk drawer open, revealing a stack of black cassette tapes, each numbered one through four with marker on the front, and a battered journal. Truman studied the tapes, pulling them out of the drawer.

"Do we have a tape player in here?" he asked the fan. Naturally, it didn't reply, but Truman found one lying next to the phone. After fumbling with the device, he managed to open the tray up and slot in the first cassette, and hit play.

" _Hello, and welcome to the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Audio Training Program. My name is Phil, head of security and veteran employee! I'm here to help you out with getting used to your new career here at Fazbear Entertainment as a performer in our brand-new Spring-Locking Retractable Performance Endoskeleton!_ " the tape played, " _Before I continue, I would like to take the time to remind you about your explicit non-disclosure agreement regarding any of our technology, and the resultant legal consequences should you break this agreement. Now, let's introduce you to your new suit!_ "

Truman winced as a loud burst of cheerful music exploded from the device.

"Jeez!" he exclaimed.

The music and Truman's shout carried out through the open door in the office, down the halls and into the depths of Fazbear's Fright, disturbing the silence of the room the salvaged animatronic sat slumped over in. The pupils of its robotic eyes flickered on, a small circle of bright white light as it lacked its "character eyes." A series of clicks and whirrs sounded from deep within as systems that had lain dormant for decades booted up. The animatronic started to study its surroundings, and turned its head to the right, meeting resistance.

The motors compensated, and with a _crack_ and a _snap_ , movement was restored. It looked around, searching for any cues or triggers in what it now realized was a room. It found none, and the roaming programming kicked in, and the robot decided to stand up, but every joint seemed stiff and impeded, but after a series of disturbingly loud cracks, snaps, and creaks, everything seemed to be fixed. The automaton slowly rose off the ground, balance sensors still functioning smoothly, scanning for any cues or triggers. Nothing.

Its programming made it decide to start wandering down the hallway it found itself in, head locked in the direction of the sound.

" _…Of course, I'm not saying the suit isn't safe, not at all, but there are some things you should be aware of…"_ the tape droned on. Truman flicked through the journal on the table. It was apparently kept by some mechanic of the place, and much of it was damaged and partially illegible. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the maintenance terminal on his left. He turned, and saw that the camera systems had failed, and sure enough his camera tablet's feed was entirely static.

"Oh shit…" he said, and clicked on the error, rebooting the system. "Hunk of junk," he said nervously, mind immediately spiraling through all the terrifying reasons (besides its age) that caused it to fail. He stared at the panel, willing it to start up again, and a splash of relief hit him when the error message vanished and the tablet showed a clear image. Truman flicked through it, and froze at one camera.

He was looking at what could only be the animatronic Cooper had been talking about, standing in the middle of the hallway leading to his office, staring up at the camera. Truman's heart started pounding as the robot tilted its head, showing it was completely functional.

The appearance of the thing could only be described as nightmare-ish. The fur-like suit covering it had decayed massively, with cracks and tears crisscrossing the animatronic's entire body. Wires stuck out in several places and much of its endoskeleton could be seen through the larger holes. From its mid-calf down, there was no suit at all, showing the odd claw-like feet and internal mechanisms of its legs and ankles. But the worst part of it all was the thing's face. The eyes glowed a pale off-white, and the lips of the suit it wore had long since rotted away, giving the robot a constant, skeletal grin. The teeth themselves were blocky, and were probably cartoonish when the suit was still in one piece. Wires stuck out, and much like everywhere else, holes and cracks in its costume were peppered throughout. It had clearly been modeled after a rabbit, but lost more than half of its right ear and the tip of its left.

It stood slightly off-kilter, slightly hunched over to its right, likely due to the damage it had sustained, but clearly balance wasn't impeded. Eventually it seemed to lose interest with the camera, and straightened its head before starting to walk. Truman watched, horror rising, as it started to creep closer towards his office, as the building had a linear layout. He quickly switched to the next camera down the robot's path.

Again, it froze and stared at the camera, likely noticing the red LED that lights up whenever a camera is being accessed. Again, it tilted its head, and again, it lost interest, and slowly walked down the hall. From the camera's wider angle, Truman found himself marveling at how smooth and fluid its movements were, only jerking slightly. The robot soon walked out of frame, and Truman was reminded the thing was heading his way. A quick look at the camera map revealed that there was only one room left before it reached the exit corridor that passed by the office. The office that lacked a functioning door.

Truman glanced at the open space in the wall. If the animatronic kept going the way it was, it would soon see him. It was here that the guard remembered the tapes and the journal. There had to be something in there that would help him. He quickly flung open the small journal, skipping pages, looking for an entry that appeared useful. He took a moment to glance at the tablet again. The animatronic had stopped in the third room, staring at one of the decorations, buying Truman more time. He found an entry that began with _"First day working on the prototype_." He quickly began reading.

Being a personal journal of who seemed to have been a mechanic, it didn't give much information regarding how to stop it, but how "The Prototype" was described, it was obviously the same machine. Mainly, it seemed to be a rant about how unsafe it was. Truman looked at the camera, and noticed the animatronic had left. He let out a small whimper, and kept reading. Until he heard footsteps.

Truman's breath caught in his throat, color draining from his face, and he looked up through the window despite himself. Sure enough, the animatronic began walking by it, slowly, methodically, as if searching for something.

 _Fuck, that thing is big,_ Truman thought, seeing that the robot's head neared the top of the nearly seven-foot high window, ears sticking past it. The robot looked left, and the two made eye contact. Truman's eyes went wide as the robot turned the rest of its body around to face the window, and stared. And stared. Truman didn't dare move a muscle, and the animatronic didn't either, aside from once again tilting its head. It wasn't until his lungs began to burn did the guard realize he had been holding his breath, and he reflexively exhaled raggedly before sucking in air again. The animatronic titled its head to its other side, and turned its head, staring into the room and looking at the open doorway.

 _Shit,_ Truman thought, as the robot began to move down the hall, crossing past the window while still staring at him. He tore through the journal, looking for something, _anything_ that would save him.

 _Had problems getting the animatronic to focus, it seems its programming makes it get distracted by sounds_ , he read. _Sounds! That's it!_

Truman's hand darted for the tablet as he noticed the animatronic start to fill the open doorway. He tapped the screen like mad as the mechanical rabbit stooped under the doorway, putting one foot into the room, picking a random camera and stabbing the box labeled "Play Sound." The sound of a creepy child laughing echoed through the attraction, and again the animatronic froze, turning its head in the direction of the sound.

Slowly, it slunk out of the doorway and walked away, passing by the window again, gaze entirely fixed on where the laugh came from. Truman sighed in relief.

"Oh God, oh God," he wheezed, "Thank you, thank you, oh…" Cooper had decided to install speakers to play spooky sounds that could be controlled at will by Truman, so that it wasn't predictable and could be adjusted to where the guests were. He looked at the journal that saved him, and noticed something at the end of the entry.

" _Because of those stupid locks, and what could happen if they fail, everyone's calling the robot 'Springtrap.' Thing's even answering to it. Kind of feel bad, not exactly a glamorous name, but it'll do for now until I figure out how to make it safe for people._ " Truman read to himself, in a whisper. He looked at the camera, seeing the animatronic searching around. He swallowed.

"I hate this job," he whimpered.

 **Minutes Earlier**

 _Searching for noise source…_

Springtrap walked down a long hallway that seemed to turn a corner at the end. Several distractions were abound, but nothing triggered his programming, so he continued to wander. He looked to his left, and saw a man in a security uniform stare at him through a window.

 _Facial recognition activated._

 _Scanning…_

 _Scanning…_

 _No match. New operator stored._

 _Awaiting orders…_

None came, and Springtrap continued to store data about his new operator in front of him, but started to get worried (the first emotion he had gained over time) when no commands came. But still he waited. The person took a ragged breath, and looked to the side. Springtrap followed his gaze and saw an open doorway.

 _Destination noted._

Ah, so that's where he was supposed to go. Springtrap turned and began walking down the hallway, still looking and waiting, as programmed, for any sort of command. None came, so he kept walking. Just as he went to enter the room, the sound of a children's laugh echoed through the restaurant.

 _Children's presence detected. Activating Entertainment Protocol…_

 _Active. Beginning search._

Springtrap immediately turned around to find the child that had laughed, one of the many triggers setup in his programming. His learning AI made a note of the appropriate response to the laughter, so that the response would be more immediate next time. The animatronic strode purposely, and a small part of him remembered his new operator. Children were more important, he decided, and he'd meet his new partner later.

 _ **A/N: Welcome to Just Another Night at Fazbear's Fright. Thanks for being patient with me. Night Seven is not over, it'll be a persistent thing as I go through all the submissions that I like. But I had this floating around for a while, and I just had to act on it.**_

 _ **Have a good one! –DeltaV "Better late than never! …Is what I tell myself"**_


	2. Chapter One: Meet Springtrap

**Chapter One: Meet Springtrap**

Truman kept his eyes glued to the tablet screen, and started to wonder if this animatronic's constant stalking was ever going to stop. He watched as again the animatronic ( _Springtrap,_ he reminded himself, although if anything the name made it worse) turned to head towards the office. Its pace was a bit faster now that it seemed to know where to go. The sounds seemed less effective, almost as if the deteriorated rabbit started to figure out they weren't real children, and Truman's heart dropped when a child's scream sound clip was completely ignored. Then the worst possible thing that could happen occurred.

A warning alarm from the maintenance computer next to him alerted that the sound system had failed, and needed a restart. Truman swore and immediately keyed the request in. He stared at the tablet again, understanding that the only defense he had was unavailable, starting to tremble as Springtrap once again crossed in front of the window, eyes locked to his. This time, the robot made it completely into the room, and a powerful stench followed it.

Truman gagged, and closed his eyes, bracing for the pain that was sure to be on its way, when his phone began buzzing in his pocket. The alarm for 6:00 am, the end of his night shift. Nothing else happened, no pain, no feeling of cold metal hands dragging the guard from his seat. He sat, not daring to move with his eyes screwed shut, for several moments, before he dared himself to open them. They cracked open slowly.

Nothing. The office was empty aside from himself, and a quick look at the tablet revealed that the animatronic was nowhere to be found. Relief hit him like a tidal wave, his entire body going numb.

"Ah-hah, hah, _oh…_ " he gasped, feeling light headed as the adrenaline went through his system. Truman practically melted into his chair, staring up at the ceiling and thanking God or whoever was watching for getting saved in just the nick of time. He swam in this relief for a long while, and then heard the exit door open just outside.

"Knock, knock!" came Cooper's voice, and his smiling face appeared around the doorframe, "So? How was your night? …What?" Cooper stared at the look on Truman's face. "Everything okay?" Truman shook his head.

"No, everything is not 'okay'!" Truman shouted, "I almost died!" Cooper's eyes went wide.

"What!? Dude, what happened?" Cooper asked, walking inside the office, "Did someone, like, break in?" Again, Truman shook his head.

"It was that animatronic you found. That thing's alive, man!" Truman explained, "It kept harassing me all night, and it almost got me!" Cooper gave Truman an odd look, before slowly smiling and starting to laugh.

"Ha! Good one, T, good one! No way, bud, that thing was a wreck when we found it. Power was drained, limbs were stuck solid, and it stank like a dead cat," Cooper said.

"I'm telling you, Coop, that thing is alive and working," Truman said. Cooper smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"This place is getting to you. Look, let me prove it," he said, and began pushing the guard down the hall.

The pair navigated the attraction, passing by the eerie decorations and the wall-mounted Foxy head with Truman protesting the entire way, before stopping in front of a hidden doorway with a slightly charred sign reading "Parts and Service." Cooper opened the door and walked in first, motioning for Truman to join him. The guard refused, shaking his head furiously. Cooper just rolled his eyes and all but shoved him into the room. Sitting slumped up against the wall was Springtrap, completely limp, eyes dark, with a cable attached to the back of his head.

"See?" Cooper said, and picked up the rabbit's left arm before letting it drop limply, "Totally busted."

"B-but, Springtrap's alive!" Truman protested. Cooper arched an eyebrow.

"Springtrap, eh? Not a bad name, dude!" he thought about it, "Springtrap… That's scary. Where'd you get it?"

"That old journal," Truman replied, "But I'm telling you, man, that thing has some sort of vendetta against me! Check the camera recordings!" Cooper smiled.

"Oh, we don't record our security footage," he said.

"… _What?_ "

"Yeah, that stuff's pricey, and if we sprung for that I wouldn't have been able to get that Foxy head!" Cooper said proudly.

"…You're an idiot," Truman replied, and rubbed his forehead. Cooper's expression softened.

"Hey, why don't you stay while we work on rusty here?" he asked, "Maybe then you won't be so scared."

Truman looked at Cooper, then to the dormant Springtrap, then back to Cooper.

"I guess…" he said, "I do want to get some sleep, though." Cooper grinned.

"That's the spirit, bud! Oh, I almost forgot!" he walked to a box of random Fazbear objects and began rooting through it, "When we found Golden Boy over here, we found some other stuff." Cooper rose and held something behind his back. "Close your eyes!"

"Are you serious?" Truman asked. Cooper nodded, and the guard sighed before doing as his boss asked.

"Now, I know this place freaks you out, so when I saw this, I thought of you," Cooper began.

"Gee, thanks," Truman said.

"Alright, ready? Open!" Cooper said. Truman did so, and was greeted by a dirty, pink cupcake figurine with big eyes and a single candle on top. "Ta da!"

"It's a cupcake…" Truman said.

"Yep! Kinda cute, huh?" Cooper replied, and began moving it around in large circles, "And the eyes follow you! Cool, right?" Truman avoided the cupcake's gaze.

"N-not really," he said, unnerved by the oversized eyes. Cooper turned the cupcake over in his hands.

"And I think the candle, like, lights up. That'll help lighten the mood!" he said enthusiastically. The odor from Springtrap started to get worse, and he made a face. "Let's go get some masks or something, ugh!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Joe and Jeff Kang arrived to help with determining how much maintenance Springtrap would need. Joe had gone to a trade school for mechanics while Jeff had studied robotics, hence why Cooper had selected them to be on the Fazbear's Fright project team. They both copied Cooper and donned half-face respirators and gloves.

"Ew, gross, what are all these stains?" John asked, circling them with a gloved finger.

"I'm more worried about the smell. Did a mouse crawl up and die in here?" Jeff replied.

"Who cares? Let's just get this thing opened and find out!" he said, "I can't stand the stench!"

Truman watched, on edge for the robot to suddenly jump up, as John started loosening bolts on the robot's head. Springtrap's jaw began to dangle slightly, and John opened it all the way, before suddenly screaming in terror and backing away like mad.

"What, what!?" Truman asked, "Is it awake?"

John didn't reply, and quickly fled the room, ripping off his mask and vomiting into a trash can. Jeff looked where John had.

"Oh God!" he said, and turned away as well, eyes screwed shut.

"What's wrong- oh Jesus!" Cooper said, and stared in shock. Truman got as close as he dared, looking over Coop's shoulder as the man turned away, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. The guard screamed at the sight as well.

It was a face, a human face, heavily decayed and skeletal, but there was no mistaking it. His gorge began rising as he found himself unable to look away. The sockets were occupied by Springtrap's robotic eyes, and several teeth were still in the mouth, which appeared to be twisted in absolute agony. The world spun, and Truman blacked out.

* * *

He awoke to Jeff slapping his face.

"Truman! You okay?" he asked.

Truman shook himself and looked around, blinking as his brain caught up with his surroundings. Cooper was on the phone in a deep conversation while John sat with his head between his knees, face pale, taking deep breaths. Cooper hung up.

"Cops are on their way. Man… what the hell?" he said, running a hand through his hair. Truman suddenly remembered what he had heard and read the previous night.

"That animatronic was designed as a wearable one, but I guess stuff was wrong with it," he said.

"You _think!?_ " Jeff said, "There's a _dead guy in it!_ " John gagged.

"Don't… don't talk about it," he said weakly. The group sat in silence until detectives and forensics experts arrived, as well as the coroner.

"Get the body out of the robot," the coroner said, studying the corpse closely.

"Definitely been here awhile," one of the forensics experts said, "At least a decade, if this decomposition is consistent." The detectives opened the retractable endoskeleton and pulled the corpse free, one section at a time, before handing it off to the coroner and forensics department.

"We'll need a statement," one detective said.

"Sure," Cooper said, "Just make sure word doesn't get out of this, okay?"

"Of course," the detective replied, pulling out his cell phone.

* * *

Several minutes later, the police left with the body, leaving Cooper, Jeff, Truman, and John with Springtrap, after the police took several photographs. Disinfectant was sprayed throughout the suit, but Cooper still wanted it to look run-down and creepy, and the robot was deemed safe to handle without contracting a terrible illness. John no longer wanted anything to do with the animatronic, but Cooper was still adamant of getting it ready for the opening, and Jeff reluctantly went along. Truman wound up getting looped as extra hands. Jeff opened a hatch on the back of Springtrap's head, messing with the wires and switches.

"Got some corrosion here, but these things are still functional," he reported, and began flipping several small switches. Nothing happened. "Hrm…"

Jeff adjusted several wires, tightening a few points and bolts to ensure all the connections were made, and flip what looked to be the main power switch. Still nothing. He sighed.

"I think we need to get some parts," he said, and turned to Truman, "Can you stay here and watch over this place while we go?"

Truman fidgeted.

"Do I have to be alone?" he asked. Cooper patted his shoulder.

"We need you to stay, make sure nothing happens to this," he said, gesturing to Springtrap, "Or if the police have more questions."

"Can't one of you guys stay with me?"

"I'm paying for the part, and I need John and Jeff with me to make sure I'm getting the right one," Cooper replied, "We'll be right back. Look, it's not even working, you'll be fine."

Truman opened his mouth to protest further, but closed it, sighing in defeat.

"Alright," he said reluctantly, "Just hurry back."

"We will, don't worry," Jeff said as John got up.

"Anything to get out of this place for a bit," John muttered, and soon the three men had left, leaving Truman alone. The guard glanced at Springtrap, expecting it to make a move as soon as the two were alone, but it still remained motionless. Truman sighed again, still watching Springtrap like a hawk. Its dark eyes stared back, its constant grin almost taunting. The guard yawned, and checked his watch, noticing it was now 2:00 in the afternoon. He sat against the wall, mirroring Springtrap's slumped position. Everything that had happened washed over him like a blur, mixing together into a hazy fatigue that left him dozing despite his fear.

Truman sat like this for some time, until soft clicking and whirring sounds pulled him out of it. Across from him, Springtrap stared back, eyes glowing.

"What the…?" Truman said, pressing back harder into the wall. The animatronic kept staring. "How…?"

As if in reply, Springtrap slowly looked down at the cable hooked up to his power supply, and slowly raised a hand and pointed to it, before slowly moving to point to the back of his head.

"You weren't charged up…" Truman realized. Springtrap stared at Truman for a moment before reaching behind his head and yanking out the power cable and slowly standing up. It then started across the room to the guard at a calculated pace.

Truman's breath caught in his throat, and willed himself to move as the animatronic got closer and closer. He managed to scramble back against the wall until he ran into the door. Springtrap watched him move, head tilted in its usual gesture of curiosity, before simply turning and continuing to go after the guard. Truman's heart pounded as he realized he was cornered, and looked up at the animatronic in fear.

"Wh-what do you want!?" he screamed in desperation. He was surprised when Springtrap paused, but felt his heart plummet when the robot slowly pointed a finger at him and continued its advance.

"No! Stop!" Truman begged, raising his hands up in front of him and turning away. Springtrap froze. Truman dared to look up, seeing that it had stopped mid-stride.

"G-go away," he said meekly, and was again surprised when Springtrap did so, backing up across the room while still staring at the guard intently. Truman watched this, awestruck, and slowly stood up. Springtrap's eyes remained locked to his, but the rabbit didn't move.

"Y-you can understand m-me?" the guard asked. Springtrap didn't react, so he decided to test this.

"Raise your h-hand," he said, raising his right hand. Springtrap copied him. Truman lowered his hand, and again Springtrap copied him. The guard stood on his right foot, and again Springtrap copied him, although it only raised its foot an inch. They both lowered them in unison. Truman's confidence grew.

"You're not going to kill me?" Truman asked. Springtrap cocked his head to the side. "You know, argh!" he wrapped his hands around his neck and shook them, miming strangling himself. Springtrap stared for a moment before reaching out both of its hands towards the guard's throat and walking towards him.

"No, no, no!" Truman shrieked, backing up, "I was kidding, _kidding!_ " Springtrap stopped and lowered its hands. The two stared at each other.

"M-maybe you should go back to charging, like you were," Truman suggested, and after a moment, Springtrap walked over to the wall and fell limp against it with metal crash, slumping down. Looking down, the robot searched for the cable, before picking it up and slotting it into its port on the back of its head. It then looked at Truman, as if for approval.

"G-good, just… stay there…" he said, and left the room, Springtrap watching his every move.

The instant the door closed behind him, Truman broke out into a run, and suddenly heard heavy, clanking footfalls. A quick look over his shoulder revealed Springtrap had unplugged himself, now chasing after him, and gaining. Truman screamed and sprinted as fast as he could, looking behind him to see the robot still keeping up.

While distracted by Springtrap's pursuit, Truman clipped a pile of prop present boxes, tripping over them and falling to the floor. He grunted as he landed on the tile, sprawling out on his back and wheezing as the wind was knocked out of him. Springtrap slowed, and stood over the fallen man, before reaching a hand down to grab him.

"No!" Truman coughed, and tried to knock the hand away. Springtrap stopped for a second, looked Truman in the eyes, and then grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Truman gasped as the robot hefted him upwards and onto his feet in one motion before letting go and stepping back. It watched as Truman put his hands on his knees and wheezed, trying to catch his breath. The guard finally looked up in surprise.

"Thanks…" he said, standing up fully. Springtrap simply stared, watching Truman intently.

"I guess you don't want to hurt me…" Truman said. Springtrap cocked its head. It wrapped its hands around its own neck, and tilted its head further. Truman found himself smiling slightly.

"Yeah…" he said, wrapping his hands around his neck. "Argh."

* * *

After ordering Springtrap to go back to charging (although it refused to turn itself off), Truman went into the security office to think, watching Springtrap through the camera tablet.

"Okay… So… We've got an animatronic, it's alive, and it had a dead body it," Truman said to himself, "And I have no idea what the hell it wants. Maybe that journal…?"

Said object sat on his desk, still opened to the page he had been on where he had learned that sounds could be used as a distraction. He flicked through several pages, both forwards and backwards, until discovering an entry that began with " _Prototype and employee relationships._ "

 _Tested the operator functions on the new animatronic today. Loaded up the base AI and the recognition software last night, but corporate hasn't sent me the character data yet, so I can only guess where he'll fit in_. _Looks like the nickname rubbed off, as did referring to him as a guy, so for now he's officially 'Springtrap,' for better or worse._

 _Test started with booting Springtrap up and introducing myself as his operator. Having no character, and by extension, no voice or any real personality, it was a bit of a one-sided conversation, but he was aware enough to recognize this. Followed instructions like a pro, but I'll be damned if I'm wearing him. He got that nickname for a reason. I still have no idea what corporate even wanted him for, maybe promotional reasons? And why make it a costume? The others have already grown so much, using a person seems irrelevant. Plus, thing's a death trap. Anyway, test was a success, and I'll leave it at that._

Truman furrowed his brow, and looked at Springtrap on the camera tablet's display, who was now looking out the open door, but remained seated and plugged in.

"Operator, huh?" he said, and read the next journal entry.

 _Came in to work on Springtrap, and he clearly recognized me, meaning the recognition software is functioning perfectly. Wouldn't stop following me around though, I think the techs made him too dependent, I'll see if I can dial it back a bit. Nothing else to report._

"So that's why…" Truman said to himself, "Well, at least it likes me… I hope."

The guard jumped, startled, when the exit door opened and Cooper, John, and Jeff entered, carrying bags of parts.

"Truman? We're back, you can go home now!" Cooper called, and noticed him sitting in his office.

"Oh, hey. Listen, I'm super sorry about making you stay, it's just, with the corpse and the robot, I-," Cooper began, but shook his head, "Anyway, thanks for being a trooper, I'll make it up to you." Truman saw Springtrap unplug himself and stand up, walking out of the camera's frame. He moved and blocked the men's path.

"Don't worry about," he said quickly, "Listen, about Springtrap-."

"Springtrap?" John asked.

"The animatronic," Cooper explained, "Awesome name, right?"

"It really works," Jeff agreed, "Makes you feel like you can't escape."

"Plus it's already got the look," Cooper added.

" _Guys!_ " Truman shouted, "Listen, Springtrap is-." He stopped when he saw the three men's eyes go wide and stare up at something above Truman's head.

"…Behind me, isn't he?" he asked.

 _ **A/N: I am happy to report that I am kind of on a roll with this story, which makes up for the absolute slog Night Seven ended up becoming. I would just keep getting stuck on one part, and I guess I got more OCD because I'm trying to make a fan's idea the best it can be for each one, so I apologize for the wait on it. It's not dead, I'm trying to get to all the submissions I said I would.**_

 _ **As for this one, some people were curious what happened to the old crew. I'm not telling.**_

 _ **-DeltaV "Operation: CLIFFHANGER (Create Lotsa Interest From Forming Harrowing Antics Not Getting Entirely Resolved) is a go!"**_

 _ **PS: Remember Codename: Kids Next Door? I could totally write their episode titles.**_


	3. Chapter Two: Partners

**Chapter Two: Partners**

Truman whirled around, but found an empty hallway greeting him. He stared down it quizzically, then looked back at Cooper, Joe, and Jeff. They had similar confused expressions, and rubbed their eyes.

"Wha-?" Jeff wondered aloud. Joe looked at him.

"You saw it too?" he asked.

"That floating smiling face? I don't know, man. It was like a flash."

Cooper shook himself.

"Ugh, I think we're working too hard," he said, "With all the stuff, and the dead guy, let's just call it a day. We're losing it."

"I don't understand. What did you see?" Truman asked.

Joe scrunched up his face as he tried to recall it.

"It was a like... Just this face, right over your shoulder. Just this big smile, but fake, like... like a doll," he said, "It's fading away. I think there were... lines?"

"A ghost?" Truman asked fearfully. He did _not_ like ghosts, and if the place was haunted...

"Dude, I don't know, but if we're hallucinating things, I say we get out of here," Jeff proposed. Cooper nodded, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah. Go home and rest up, Truman, I need you back here at midnight," he said.

"Not if this place is haunted!" Truman protested.

"It's not haunted, I promise. We're just tired," Joe said reassuringly, "Bizarrely, similarly tired."

"Go put the stuff inside, we'll meet up tomorrow. It's been a long day," Jeff said. Joe nodded, and began he walk inside with bag of parts. He stopped a few steps past Truman, before turning and looking at him questioningly.

"What were you saying about the animatronic?" he asked. Truman's eyes widened.

"Uh... nothing..." he lied. Joe nodded and walked inside.

"Ok. Good luck tonight," he said.

Truman waited for a shout from Joe that signaled Springtrap's whereabouts, but nothing came, and he soon walked to his car and drove home.

* * *

Several hours later, Truman was back in the Adventure Park parking lot, walking to the small center where Fazbear's Fright was. It wasn't much, just three buildings sitting a small distance away from the entrance. After the idea to create Fazbear's Fright was approved, the other two buildings were formed to serve as a gift shop and a small pizzeria, all using the Fazbear Fright theme. The pizzeria was much brighter than the attraction, and resembled a much, much smaller version of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in its heyday, with the nicer artifacts being preserved.

Freddy's had cemented itself in legend after the place closing down revealed its dark history. Details on the murders and missing night guards the company hushed up were leaked, but it didn't matter as Fazbear Entertainment died with the restaurant. The public was outraged and terrified that such atrocities were able to continue, so it surprised no one when the pizzerias were attacked in an act of arson. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as they say.

As the years passed, the sting of the event faded, and again rumor took hold, as it was never explained exactly _why_ the night guards were murdered and who or what was responsible. The same theories of ghost children and demons persisted, and even though its doors were closed for good, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza remained in the public consciousness for years afterwards, its place in lore and legend

None of this, however, was on Truman's mind as he clocked in and took his place in his chair in the office. No, he was more concerned about ghosts and a certain animatronic that continued to stalk him.

"I see you," Truman said, looking through the camera screens. Springtrap was standing motionless in the hallway, staring at something. The guard shuddered. It might not want to kill him, but the robot still creeped him out.

The screen flickered, and a burst of static shot through the system, cutting the camera feed for a few moments. When it returned, Springtrap was nowhere to be found.

"Huh? How did...?" Truman wondered aloud. He found the robot again on a nearby camera. It was again making its way slowly towards the office. Truman was about to tap a "Play Sound" button when the maintenance panel's alarm sounded, followed by a loud clack as the ventilation shut off.

The air in the office quickly became stale, and soon Truman found it difficult to breathe, choking as his lungs began burning. He frantically rebooted the system as his breathing became ragged, vision swimming. The system continued to reboot. Truman stared out the window, when suddenly he could make out a semi-transparent face staring back at him.

It was bright white, with black, empty, oval shaped eyes with purple lines that led down to a large, equally empty and black grin. Almost as quickly as it appeared, a _beep_ from the terminal and _clunk_ from the vents signified the air flow had returned. Truman drank the fresh air, taking several deep breaths.

"Oh... my God," he gasped, "What kind... of old tech... are we using?"

Truman's breathing slowly returned to normal, and he became aware of Springtrap staring at him through the window. The animatronic tilted his head as soon as the guard looked up. _Are you okay?_ the look seemed to ask.

"I'm fine," Truman said, taking another deep breath and shaking his head clear, "I'm fine."

Springtrap straightened his head, and looked towards the open doorway to the office and back at Truman. The guard gave the animatronic a confused look, causing it to repeat looking to the door and back at Truman. His eyes widened in realization.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I guess you can come in," he told the robot. _Not like there's much I can do to stop you._

Springtrap crossed over to the doorway took several steps inside, lowering his more intact ear to keep it from brushing against the lower office ceiling. He looked around, pausing and staring at the box full of props with interest, picking up an old, red v-shaped electric guitar and studying it.

"That's a guitar," Truman explained, "A, uh, musical instrument."

Springtrap nodded, turning the instrument and holding it correctly, and faced Truman. It was an odd sight, the dirty, damaged, skeletal animatronic holding the bright instrument.

"Doesn't really suit you, but you seem to know what to do with it. Were you part of the band back in the day?" Springtrap didn't react, but put the guitar back in the box and picked up a white fox head with empty eye sockets. The rabbit tilted its head as it looked at it, and showed it to Truman, hoping the guard could explain.

"Uh... It's a fox head? Maybe from one of the other animatronics? I've got nothing on this one, sorry," Truman told the robot rabbit. Springtrap stared at the fox head's face for a few more moments before putting it back. Truman clapped his hands.

"So... You're a robot..." he said awkwardly. Springtrap looked up. Truman rubbed the back of his head, scratching at an itch. After a moment, Springtrap reached up a hand and rubbed his suit head in a similar fashion. Truman froze, thinking for a few seconds the animatronic actually had an itch, but realized it was simply mimicking him when Springtrap froze at the same time. It tilted its head. By now the guard realized that the gesture was Springtrap's way of saying "What is/was that?"

"Just an itch. Human thing," Truman explained. Springtrap straightened his head. _Question answered,_ Truman decided. A small silence blanketed the scene, aside from the quiet clicks and whirrs Springtrap made. For a moment they just stared at each other, until Truman made a realization.

"Oh man, Cooper's gonna want to activate you to see how much work you need to be in the attraction," he said aloud, and stood up, "We're going to need to hide this... alive, thing you've got going on." Springtrap tilted his head from one side, then to the other. Truman sighed. "Well now you must be really confused. Uh... Look, you need to not walk around and stuff. In fact, when they turn you on, just don't move at all, understand?" Springtrap tilted his head to the other side.

"Ugh, why couldn't you have a super-smart robot brain?" Truman fumed, "I guess I'll just show up... Tomorrow's gonna suck." Truman sank back down into his chair, putting his head in his hands. Springtrap walked over and slowly put a hand on Truman's head. It landed roughly, edge of the thumb cutting into Truman's forehead.

"Ouch!" Truman exclaimed, causing Springtrap to recoil away. The guard rubbed the spot the animatronic's hand landed on him. "Jeez... Ow..." Springtrap took several steps backwards. Truman looked up. "What the hell was that for?" Pulling his hand away from his forehead revealed a small amount of blood on his palm. He had been cut by the sharp metal of the robot's hand.

* * *

 _Operator Injured: Seeking medical attention..._

Upon seeing the visible distress in Truman's face and his adverse reaction to whatever was now on his hand, Springtrap felt a bit of his programming take over, and he immediately began to search for any cues or triggers that signified medical staff. Several symbols had been loaded, including a cross or plus, the words "First Aid," "Medical Station," and other similar images. The rabbit marched out of the room, scanning his surroundings.

"Where are you going?" Truman asked, "Why'd you hit me?"

Springtrap didn't acknowledge this, as he didn't understand the question, and continued his search for first aid. The robot wasn't familiar with the layout of the attraction aside from the main halls, and tried different doors, stopping to stick his head in, scan around the room, before continuing on his way. The first few doors were the maintenance room and a janitorial closet, neither of which possessed any form of medical supplies. One door, labeled "Manager," simply didn't open at all, as the door itself was fake. These setbacks didn't frustrate Springtrap, who continued his search diligently.

Finally, he found an "Employees Only" door and saw a large set of cabinets with several different labels, one of which was "First Aid."

 _Retrieving..._

Springtrap pulled the drawer open and stared at the contents. It consisted of self-adhesive bandages, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Springtrap grabbed everything and marched back towards the Security Office.

* * *

Truman winced as he rubbed his head. He wasn't entirely sure what made Springtrap give him a whack on the head, but the sharp metal of his endoskeleton's hands left quite a cut. He debated getting up and heading for the staff room, but worried that Springtrap was getting violent. He wasn't sure what the hit was all about.

Heavy, clanking footsteps sounded down the hall, and Springtrap strode past the window, carrying something in his hands. The robot entered the office, marched right up to Truman, and deposited the items onto the desk: several band-aids, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a pack of cotton balls, and a bottle of painkillers. Springtrap took a step back and looked at Truman expectantly. The guard stared at the supplies in surprise.

"Thanks," was all he could say. Springtrap didn't acknowledge this and continued to watch the guard. Truman opened up the cotton balls and gave one a splash of the alcohol, dabbing it on the cut on his forehead, hissing as it burned. Springtrap stirred, leaning in and looking at the cut closely, tilting his head quizzically. The guard finished cleaning the cut and stuck a bandage over it, and turned to Springtrap, who hovered over him.

"I'm fine. Why'd you do that?" Truman asked, "I mean, I'm glad you gave me this stuff, but why'd it happen in the first place?" Springtrap tilted his head. "...Right, forgot. Well, thanks anyway." He patted Springtrap's forearm, grimacing as he wiped the grime the suit stained his hand with on his pants. Springtrap stared for a moment before the corners of his jaw twitched upwards, increasing his skeletal grin by giving a genuine smile. Truman's eyes widened in surprise, causing the robot to return to its neutral expression, before suddenly turning on a heel and marching back down the hall to the Service room.

Curious, Truman watched Springtrap's progress as the rabbit opened the door (rather violently), slowly lower itself (himself? It was still confusing) into a sitting position against the back wall and insert the charging cable into the back of its head. One second later, a chime went off, signaling the end of Truman's shift.

"Huh..." he said, looking at the clock that now proudly proclaimed "6:00 am". A sudden headache exploded across his forehead, accompanied by a ringing in his ears, and again he saw the same white, smiling face, this time just outside the window. It floated closer, but just before it reached the glass, Truman screamed in pain, and the figure immediately vanished. To Truman, it lasted no more than a second. The guard sat in his chair for a long moment, rubbing his temples and taking deep, calming breaths as the headache went away as fast as it had occurred.

"What the...?" he asked himself, before deciding he wanted no more of this ghost business and exiting the attraction.

* * *

Several hours after Truman left for home, Cooper, Joe, and Jeff arrived to continue setting up the attraction. The first order of business was to try and figure out what they could do with the animatronic. Cooper activated the attractions main lights, removing the dark and creepy atmosphere for the sake of working. He took a moment to look over the place with pride. Things were really starting to come together. Now to check up on the animatronic.

"Alright, let's see what we've got to work with," Cooper said, pushing open the door to the small maintenance room. There sat Springtrap, just as they left him, sprawled out on the floor with a charging cable stuck into the back of his head. Jeff sighed.

"I'm starting to hate this hunk of junk," he said. Cooper patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't be like that!" he said, "It's not like he could help it. Now let's see here..." Cooper pulled out the cable, flicking the master power switch to the on position once again. This time a click and whirring sounded, and the robot's eyes began glowing.

* * *

 _Welcome to FazBearOS!_

 _Loading Funimatronic AI V 3.0..._

 _Loaded._

 _Loading FaceTracker..._

 _Loaded._

 _Scanning for personality matrix..._

 _Scanning..._

 _Scanning..._

 _None found. Loading last saved data..._

 _Loaded. Awaiting cues..._

Springtrap saw three men staring at him, one with a giant smile on his face.

"Well would you look at that!" the smiling man said. Another man rubbed his head.

"That's... unexpected. I was certain this thing needed a lot more work," he said. Another man, visibly similar to the confused one, looked unnerved.

"It's kind of creepy," he said.

Springtrap paid them no mind, and began to look around for Truman, before suddenly remembered what his operator had said. He remained rigid, unmoving, as directed. Part of his logic convinced him this was the best course of action, but Springtrap couldn't yet understand why.

"Better hook that computer thing up, see what's programmed," the smiling man said. The confused man nodded, and disappeared out of Springtrap's peripheral vision.

 _Auxiliary device detected._

Springtrap "felt" the computer begin to access its code, and his system automatically sent an error message when the two machine's operating systems didn't coincide (a safety protocol installed after management began to worry about their latest creation).

"Huh," the man with the computer said from behind, "Looks like I can't do much here. It's locking me out."

"What do you mean?" the smiling man (who was no longer smiling) asked.

"It means I can't do anything. I need something called 'FazOS' installed. I'll have to see if there's a copy of it online or something."

"What about this thing?" the uncertain man asked.

"Beats me," the computer man replied, "I'm not even sure it _can_ do anything."

The smiling man began to pace around, deep in thought with a hand to his chin. He suddenly whirled around.

"Wait a minute, Truman was saying something about this thing moving around, so it must have some sort of AI or something. Right?" he looked to the man with the computer for conformation.

"I guess...?" he said, not sure what his boss was going on about.

"I'm gonna call him," the man replied, pulling out his phone, tapping it a few times, and putting it to his ear. He waited for a few moments before lowering it, tapping it again, and lifting it to his ear.

"Hey, hey, Truman?" the man asked the device, "It's me, Cooper. Hi, so, what were you going on about with Springtrap? Uh huh... Uh huh... Alright, cool. What? Well of course we turned him on! Yeah, he's staring at me, it's... kinda creepy, which is great! No, no, he's not moving around at all, just standing and staring. Yes. Okay, thanks. See you tonight!" Cooper tapped the phone once more and put it back into his pocket.

"Welp, looks like our friend here _does_ have an AI. Let's see what happens," Cooper folded his arms in expectation, leaning against the wall, watching Springtrap, his companions doing the same. They waited. And waited. And waited. A small click sounded from inside the robot's torso, and the men leaned forward expectantly, but it was some ambient noise caused by Springtrap's machinery, and the rabbit remained motionless. Cooper frowned.

"Hmm. Well this'll be a boring attraction," he said.

"The damn thing's broken," one of the other men said.

"Truman was swearing up and down this thing was moving around earlier," Cooper replied, doubt seeping into his voice.

"I think he was just messing with you," the other man replied, "Let's just take it apart."

A loud clack sounded from Springtrap.

 _Maintaining orders._

 _Scanning facial features..._

 _Name association complete: "Kew-per"_

Springtrap remained motionless, instead letting his AI collect and analyze data. The person named Cooper seemed... nice, yes, that was the word.

"Let's just take it apart," one of the other men said.

 _No._

 _No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no nononononononono_

The word exploded across Springtrap's mind. He looked at the man who said it, and recognized that it would be best to get away. He walked out of the room and into the long, winding hallway that served as the attraction's route.

"Hey, it's doing something!" Cooper exclaimed, and followed the robot.

* * *

"Crap, crap, crap!" Truman said as he drove towards Adventure Park. He had forgotten about coming back to keep Springtrap's sentience a secret. After the whole mind fuck that occurred, it seemed like a much preferable option to sleep it all off. Good thing Cooper called for advice. Hopefully Springtrap hadn't gotten into too much trouble.

Truman pulled his car into the parking lot in front of Fazbear's Fright, spying two other cars occupying spaces near the employee (read: back) entrance. He parked next to them and made to open the door. It opened a crack before clunking to a halt.

"What the?" Truman asked, and jiggled it, knocking it against the obstruction. He peered through the small gap, seeing something that looked faded and yellowish. "Springtrap?" The robot moved away at the mention of its name, turning around and pulling the door open and out of Truman's grasp. The corners of its mouth twitched upwards for a second, before returning to neutral.

"Ah, here he is!" Cooper said, rounding the corner, "Hey Truman! Check it out, he works! No idea what he's doing, though." Joe and Jeff followed behind him. As soon as Springtrap saw Jeff, he tried to go around Truman, but there wasn't space in the doorway and he refused to shove the guard out of the way, instead taking small steps towards the side and leaning with intent.

"What're you doing?" Truman asked in a low voice. Springtrap didn't acknowledge, instead turning back and watching Jeff intently. Truman looked between the two. "What's the deal?"

"I'm guessing it's that free roam I was talking about. It doesn't know where it's going," Joe supplied, "We can probably override that." Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets.

"So are we going to tear it apart, or...?" he asked. Springtrap backed up, stopping as he ran into Truman.

"Hey!" the guard protested, then slowly added, "Move, let me inside. What's wrong?" Springtrap did as requested, and stepped forward, giving Truman enough space to get around the decayed rabbit and close the door. Springtrap backed up against the door, brushing past the confused guard. It finally clicked.

"You don't want to be taken apart..." Truman breathed, then whirled around to face Springtrap, "Seriously? You're scared of Jeff?" Springtrap tilted his head. Joe spoke up at this point.

"No, Jeff, we're not taking it apart. Probably couldn't put it back together," he said, "I just have to find that operating system, give it it's new programming." Truman saw his opportunity.

"...I could do it," he said. Joe chuckled.

"Thanks, Truman, but it's sort of complicated," he said, "and you don't strike me as the technical type. No offense."

"I've been reading this old journal though, and it explains stuff," Truman replied.

"Such as?"

"Uh... stuff..."

"I think it's great!" Cooper said. Joe turned.

"How so?"

"Think about it! Truman works nights, so he can read that journal and take care of Spring here," Cooper explained, "And that leaves you free to do other things."

"But you specifically hired me to-,"

"Sure did, but you gotta learn to be _flexible,_ man!" Cooper said, and turned to Truman, "Thanks for volunteering, man, I knew you were a good choice. From now on, Springtrap's officially your responsibility! Make sure he's all set for Monday!"

"But Cooper-," Joe began.

"No buts, I'm in charge," Cooper replied, holding up a hand, and dropped his voice, "Look, man, can't you see the poor kid's really trying? You can clean up the mess, alright?"

"I... sort of heard all that," Truman said. Cooper smiled big.

"Heh. Well, uh... Come in tonight, and start working, okay? Thanks again!" he turned to Joe and Jeff, "C'mon, guys, let's go tell Scott the good news!" Jeff shrugged.

"Alright," he said. Joe sighed.

"Fine. Maybe he'll approve of that new lighting setup," he said. The three men turned and walked off towards the door that connected the attraction to the actual park. Truman sighed in relief.

"Phew. Glad that's settled," he turned to Springtrap, "Looks like we're together in this."

Springtrap looked down, and smiled.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Red herring, noun; a rare species of fish that is frequently identified as those of another type due to presumptions about its appearance. Also see 'because plot.'**_

 _ **Hi. Sorry this took long. Working on a visual novel for JANAF. Bye.**_

 _ **-DeltaV "It'll be free, of course, because I've never designed games (?) before!"**_


	4. Chapter Three: Those Who Can't Do

**Chapter Three: Those Who Can't Do...**

 **30 Years Earlier**

Arianna read the form in front of her again and again, hoping that there was some other way to interpret what it meant. There wasn't. After holding on by a thread for two more years, the inevitable finally caught up with them. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was closing down. Permanently. Staff layoffs had not helped, neither did selling off the last scraps of props left and all of the animatronics' spare parts and suits. No matter what she did or what she said to herself, Freddy's had been dying a slow death ever since 1987. It was time to finally pull the plug. She took a look out into the Dining Area, empty and barren, most of the tables and chairs having been sold as well. All that hard work... Arianna felt tears well up in her eyes, before she scowled and tore the form in half, tossing it to the side. All that hard work... All the sweat, tears, and far, far too much blood that had been spilled trying to survive, all for naught. Another look out the window, but this time to the closed curtains of the Show Stage. All their hard work. All ruined by some nut with a camera, a pen, a notepad, and an agenda.

Through blurry vision, she opened up her large desk, pulling out a crumpled business card that had been given to her when the first round of selling to pay the fines began. Arianna had crumpled it in front of the man's face before stuffing it into the drawer and throwing him out. She smoothed it out, able to make out the phone number, and picked up the handset, nearly strangling it and she stabbed in each digit. It rang once. Twice.

" _Mitch's Salvage Yard,_ " the man on the other side said. Arianna cleared her throat and struggled to keep her voice level.

"Hello. I have some animatronics that I need removed."

* * *

 **Fazbear's Fright, 30 Years Later**

Truman kicked off the wall of his office, rolling backwards in his chair until bumping into the far wall before kicking off and rolling back across the small room. He had been doing this for fifteen minutes, nonstop, while Springtrap watched through the window, head tracking the guard's movements. Truman felt the robot's penetratingly focused gaze and struggled not to shiver. Friendly or not, Springtrap was still monumentally creepy. The chair thumped into the wall as Truman mentally reviewed what Cooper had wanted following his quick offer to work on Springtrap.

 _"Get him ready for opening on Monday,_ " he had said. The chair thumped against the far wall. _"Make sure to program in his pathing, routines, and of course get the timing of the special effects down, too!"_

Thump.

 _"Oh, and make sure to make him not touch anyone, that's explicitly stated as part of our policy. Can't have him copping a feel, know what I mean?"_

Thump. Truman sighed in exasperation, looking at Springtrap through the window.

"What have I done? I don't know the first thing about computers, or robots, or even the damn show!" he said. Springtrap cocked his head. "I mean, I'm still in high school! How can I possibly program you?" The guard flopped face-first onto the large desk, his hands landing a second later with a theatrical smack. A moment later, a large _bang_ sounded and the window shook in its frame. Truman's head jolted up, seeing Springtrap mimicking his position on the desk. His eyes narrowed.

"Stop copying me!" he protested, discomfort turning into frustration, and leaned back in his chair and crossing his arms, "It's annoying!" Springtrap awkwardly crossed his arms over his tattered torso and leaned back slightly, feet still planted firmly. Truman shot the robot a glare, which naturally Springtrap tried to copy, contorting his skeletal face to be somehow more horrifying. Truman looked away from the sight, paling slightly. After a moment he chanced a glance upwards, and saw that Springtrap had returned to staring at him blankly.

"I guess that's better... somehow," the guard mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands before groaning into them. "What am I going to do? I _need_ this job." Truman lowered his hands, looking back up at Springtrap.

"I mean, all you do is stare and copy me," Truman sighed. He slumped down, idly swiveling in his chair until, suddenly, he had an idea.

"That's it!" he declared, sitting up straighter and pointing a finger at Springtrap, "You always copy me, so I just have to show you what to do!" Springtrap cocked his head. "I know, I know, it doesn't sound that great, but maybe, just maybe..." Truman pulled the faded journal out of the desk and flicked through it, searching for a passage that might be useful.

"Looks like there were more of you," he said to Springtrap as he skimmed over the journal before finally finding the section of entries devoted to the rabbit. Nothing explicitly mentioned any copy behavior, just a few casual acknowledgements that Springtrap was very reactive to human actions, as well an entry discussing their learning AI.

"Learning AI, huh?" Truman muttered to himself, before snapping the journal shut and looking at Springtrap. "I think I have an idea!"

Truman stood with Springtrap in one of the room's blind corners, scratching under his cap nervously.

"Okay, so, uh, I need you to activate your learning thing, okay?" Truman said. Springtrap stared at him blankly. "Is it on?" The rabbit's CPU whirred a little bit louder, then quieted. "...Ok. So, I need you to _please_ listen: you have to walk around, hide in these little blind spots, and jump out at people when they walk through. Got it?"

Springtrap cocked his head to the left. Truman sighed. "You're going to scare people, okay? Rah!" Truman raised his hands up over his head, fingers splayed out like claws. After a moment, Springtrap copied him. Truman's eyes widened.

"Yeah, okay! _Rah!_ " Truman quickly leant forward as if to startle someone. Springtrap did the same. " _Rah!_ " Another silent lunge. Truman lowered his arms. "No, no, you got to make a noise too. You _can_ do that, right?" Springtrap cocked his head to the right. Truman face palmed.

"Okay, just... repeat after me: Rah!" Springtrap blinked. "Rah!" Truman repeated, "C'mon, Springtrap, you have to or I'm fired. _Rah! Rah! Raaargh!"_ Again Truman was met with silence. "I guess we can't go that route."

Truman scratched his head in thought, mulling over what to do. Springtrap watched him as the guard began to pace up and down the hall, following two steps behind. Truman's foot brushed against one of the hidden floor speakers and nearly toppled over, catching himself at the last minute. He looked at it, irritated, until he got an idea.

"That might work!" he said, turning to face Springtrap triumphantly. Springtrap stared. "I've got an idea. C'mon, follow me." Truman gestured for the robot to follow him.

He led the animatronic back to the office and rummaged through his belongings before pulling out a wireless speaker out of his bag and his phone out of his pocket. Determination setting in, Truman then brushed past Springtrap and strode purposefully towards the maintenance room. Once inside, a quick scan of the shelves revealed what he needed: duct tape. The guard paled when he realized what the next step would be. Springtrap clomped up behind him and watched as Truman turned around, speaker and tape in hand.

"Ugh... This is gonna be _really_ gross..." he said, "Don't move." Springtrap dutifully remained frozen as Truman slowly put his hand through a tear in rabbit's torso. His wrist brushed against the material, and the guard stifled the urge to vomit as it left a trail of grime on his skin. Truman set the speaker on a metallic "rib" that he hoped wouldn't move and wrapped it several times in duct tape. After being sure that it wouldn't fall or get crushed when Springtrap moved, he pulled out his phone.

"Okay, we have to test the range. Go towards the office... now," he said, and began to play music. Springtrap looked down in what was nearly surprise as _Escape_ by Rubert Holmes blared out from the speaker before turning and walking out of the room. Truman strained to hear the lyrics as he got further and further away.

* * *

 _Storing auditory data..._

 _"If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain_ ," came the music from Springtrap's torso. This was the first real song Springtrap had ever heard, and a part of him told him that this was a pleasant experience. As his CPU logged the music and its effect on Springtrap's AI, he found himself twitching slightly to the beat, jaw curving into a grin. Moments later, he reached the Security Office, music still blaring proudly. Springtrap waited for two minutes before heading back towards Truman, still twitching along with the song.

The rabbit's metal feet clanked and clunked down the long hallway as he reentered the service room. Truman looked up, smiled triumphantly, and used his phone to deactivate the speaker.

"Good, that'll do for now," he said as Springtrap's expression returned to neutral, "Now, uh... Here's what you need to do. Um... Okay, alright, are you listening?"

 _Listening..._

"...I'll just assume yes. So, you have to remain out of sight, and sneak up to people and jump out at them, like I showed you. I'll make the sound since I'll be watching with the cameras. Got it?"

 _Orders recorded._

"Spring?"

 _Cataloging..._

 _Rewriting..._

"You need to be sneaky, okay?"

 _Renaming program to "Sneaky"... Done._

"Um, maybe we should practice. I'll, uh, I'll go to the start of this maze," Truman said, swallowing nervously. The prospect of Springtrap jumping out at him wasn't exactly welcoming. "Okay, time to get sneaky."

 _Running "Sneaky"..._

Springtrap watched as Truman walked out of sight to the attraction's entrance, hugging himself nervously. The rabbit blinked once before hiding around a corner, blending in with the shadows.

* * *

"I have the worst ideas," Truman muttered, then cupped his hands to his mouth, "Okay, I'm starting now!"

The guard took a calming breath and then began walking, looking around at the frightening decor as he crept along the corridors. His eyes scanned the scenery, searching for the large robot. Springtrap was nowhere to be found. Truman's heart rate quickened in anxious waiting, forcing himself to not stand rooted to the spot.

"You're doing good so far!" Truman called out in a false show of confidence. A large shadow moved out of sight as he passed the maintenance room. The floor creaked, and suddenly Truman became aware of a large figure right behind him. He whirled around, greeted by Springtrap's horrifying visage, arms raised over his head and fingers splayed out just as Truman had taught him. The guard jumped a foot, screaming in surprise. Springtrap dropped his hands and cocked his head to the side in what was nearly concern.

"How did you-? You were right over-," Truman sputtered, "Wow. You're surprisingly good at stalking." The guard studied Springtrap's expression, seeing a little bit more than the usual neutrality. "Something wrong?"

Springtrap pointed at Truman.

"Me?" he asked, "Uh, I'm fine. I'm fine. You did a good job."

Springtrap dropped his hand, corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. Truman smiled slightly back before awkwardly reaching out and patting the robot's arm. The rabbit watched Truman do so before reaching out and dropping his own hand heavily onto Truman's shoulder. The guard winced at the impact.

"Ouch..." he said through clenched teeth, "You're welcome." Springtrap withdrew the hand and continued to stare at Truman expectantly. The man shifted awkwardly. "You want to go again?"

* * *

Several hours and several scares later, Truman and Springtrap were back in the office. Truman had pulled out a laptop, but the attraction lacked any sort of Internet access. The small machine seemed to mesmerize Springtrap, gaze locked to the glowing screen. The guard left it out, watching the animatronic out of the corner of his eye as he flicked through his phone. A shadow in his peripheral vision stole his attention, and he looked out the window.

He was greeted with a dark mass in the rough shape of some sort of bear figure. It limped from one side of the window, and Truman realized it was an animatronic, but was in shambles and looked charred. It held a microphone in one hand, and its one functioning eye looked up to meet the guard's. Another headache exploded across Truman's skull as a voice hissed a series of letters. In a sudden moment of clarity, Truman grabbed his laptop and quickly opened a note-taking program, scrambling to write down the letters. He typed quickly, and as the shadow and the headache faded, Truman looked down to what he had written:

 _T-S-O-L-T-S-O-L-T-S-O-L-T-S-O-L_

"Tsol? Who the hell's 'Tsol'?" he wondered aloud. Springtrap looked at him questioningly. "I saw this... shadow thing, like a... robot, like you. But a bear. Am I going crazy?" The rabbit offered no opinion, just blinked once and looked back at the laptop screen. Truman shivered, and looked back at his phone, trying to push the matter as far out of his mind as he could.

The hours passed by at a now agonizingly slow pace as Truman fought the urge to look back out the window. Springtrap had sat down just outside the office and hadn't moved, eyes dimming in what Truman assumed was some sort of standby mode. Fifteen minutes to six, Springtrap's eyes brightened, and he leaned through the doorway, staring at Truman, tilting his head.

"I'm fine," Truman announced, and the robot clanked down the hall towards the maintenance room. Through the cameras Truman watched Springtrap sit down and plug himself in, eyes flickering for a moment before going completely dark.

With nothing left to do, Truman resigned to spinning idly in his chair, watching the clock count up to six am. A chime went off on his phone, signaling the end of another shift. He rose quickly and pushed his way through the exit before any more ghosts showed up.

* * *

 _Entering standby..._

 _Charging..._

Springtrap slumped against the wall, using limited power to allow his AI to analyze and interpret the latest round of experiences. More of Truman's expressions were saved, allowing Springtrap to tune in easier to the human's emotions, the song was recorded, and extra space was created in anticipation of new information. Still plenty of storage, so it was more of a subroutine's version of a formality. The name "Tsol" was also logged. Springtrap's CPU hummed softly as it processed everything, winding down as the rabbit began to charge.

Several hours later, Springtrap was brought into a partially active state by a small commotion. The sounds of activity faintly crept in through the closed door, a series of muffled scrapes, thuds, bangs, and several voices.

 _Exiting standby..._

Springtrap's eyes glowed as he came completely online, unplugging himself, batteries charged enough to investigate what was going on.

 _Running Sneaky ..._

The animatronic remembered Truman's instructions on what to do when more people came into the attraction, and crept up to the door as quietly as possible. Carefully, Springtrap turned the knob and eased it open enough to see outside. Men in overalls moved about with boxes, crates, paint cans, brushes, and more. This piqued the robot's curiosity, having never seen anything like this before. Spotting an opportunity, he opened the door and slinked out into the main hallway, keeping to dark corners of the room.

Most of the men had gone to different areas of the attraction, leaving three behind to touch up the paint on the ceiling. One stood on a small ladder, the others stabilizing him and preparing brushes while idly talking to themselves.

"Can't believe the boss wants this open next Monday," the one holding the ladder complained.

"I can't believe we're back here. I thought we already finished this job," replied the one painting.

"They ordered more lights and wanted the paint touched up, can't fault them for that," replied the third man as he wrenched the lid off a paint can with a screwdriver.

"Sure we can," grumbled the first man.

Springtrap watched the men work for several moments, staring curiously as they painted, managing to escape notice.

"What exactly was this place's thing, again?" asked the second man.

"Remember that Freddy's restaurant from a hundred years ago?" the third man asked.

"Yeah. Burned down, didn't it?"

"Yep. Apparently there was some shady stuff going on in there, lot of rumors. That's kind of what this place is doing," the third man explained.

"I see... So, what, is it just bad pizza and screaming kids?" the first man asked.

"No, no, they're gonna have some guy in a costume or something chase guests around. Basic haunted house stuff," explained the third man.

"I heard something about a robot," added the second. The first man shook his head.

"Robot? No way, where are they going to get a robot that advanced? And one that's safe? Nah, too risky," he pointed this out to the other men, "Any random glitch, and they risk the whole place failing. It's got to be a guy in a costume."

The third man straightened, stretching his back. As he twisted around, he noticed Springtrap lurking in the corner, and did a wide-eyed double take.

"What the-!?" he exclaimed, catching the other men's attention.

"Hrm?" the one on the ladder asked, looking over to Springtrap. He flinched visibly in surprise, nearly falling off the ladder, "Jesus!" The second man's eyes widened in surprise, nearly letting the ladder topple over. By that point, the third man had recovered, and glared at Springtrap, embarrassed.

"Not funny, man," he said. The man on the ladder laughed.

"Good one, pal, good one," he said in good humor, and steadied himself. Springtrap stared curiously. The two men on the floor shared a glance, and the man on the ladder chuckled nervously.

"Okay, you got us, you can knock it off now," he said. Springtrap cocked his head to the right. "...Seriously, you're freaking me out. Save it for the guests, alright?" The second man spoke up.

"Hey, uh, are his eyes... glowing?" he asked.

"It's probably for effect," the man on the ladder answered, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

"At least stop creeping in the corner, buddy," the third man said roughly.

Springtrap did so, standing under a light in the middle of hall. The men's faces fell as they took in the various tears in the rabbit's suit. And the exposed endoskeleton visible within. Far, far too thin to be housing a person.

"Oh my God..." the second man breathed. For a long moment, no one moved, and the men all held their breath. Springtrap remembered what Truman had told him to do when he was spotted. The animatronic raised his arms, splayed his fingers out like claws, and lunged at the three men.

They all shouted in surprise, the two on the floor bolting, leaving the man on the ladder unsupported. He toppled over with a scream before jumping up and following his companions. Springtrap watched them go as they rounded the corner and slammed through the exit. The animatronic looked down at the discarded ladder and paint cans, looked up to where the men had gone, before tilting his head confusedly. Something clicked upon seeing the toppled ladder, and he carefully set it back up on its legs before heading back to the maintenance room.

* * *

Cooper pulled his truck into the Adventure Park parking lot, seeing the workmen had already arrived. He jumped out and rubbed his hands together easily. It was time to get to work. The man tried to contain his excitement has he opened up the truck bed's cover, revealing more "artifacts" from the other restaurants. It was nothing nearly as huge as Springtrap, but there were still plenty of odds and ends that'd help spice up the queue line, mainly newspaper clippings.

Cooper grabbed the first box and headed towards the main entrance, whistling a tune happily. He shifted the box to rest on one hip as he reached for the handle when three men burst out of the door, knocking Cooper to the ground and sending the box flying. The men went down in a heap as the box exploded upon hitting the ground, scattering the clippings across the parking lot.

"Ouch," Cooper moaned, "What's going on?"

"Find yourself some other painters, man, we ain't sticking around here," one of the men replied.

"Yeah, use someone else for your stupid freakshow," added as the men picked themselves up. Cooper could only watch, dumbstruck, as they climbed into their van and sped away. A smile crept across his face as he began to pick up the scattered bits of paper. Clearly this place would be a hit.

* * *

Truman walked through the door to the sizable apartment he shared with his mother.

"Hey Mom," he greeted upon seeing her sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee, still dressed in scrubs.

"Hi Truman," she replied, "Welcome home. Good shift?"

"Pretty good, yeah," he said, rubbing his face, "Plenty long, though."

"Tell me about it."

"Yeah."

Truman's mother sighed, looking at the clock.

"Set the alarm for 2:00?" Truman asked.

"2:30," Truman's mother groaned, "Let's sleep in today."

"Sounds good," Truman agreed with a smile.


	5. Chapter Four: The First Fright

**Chapter Four: The First Fright**

Cooper ran through the halls of Fazbear's Fright like a man possessed, Springtrap following along in the near pitch darkness. The animatronic's heavy footsteps echoed in the quiet.

"Okay, hit the smoke!" Cooper ordered into his radio.

In the security/control office, Truman thumbed the necessary button.

A series of large, hidden fog machines whirred to life, slowly filling the attraction with a mist that clung at about waist-height. Springtrap halted momentarily and studied the vapor curiously. He slowly slashed a hand through it, watching the smoke curl in the small vortexes that formed in its wake. Cooper dashed back, stepping around the robot.

"Robot's stuck," he radioed, and kept moving towards the entrance. "Hit the lights, Truman." Truman's hands hovered over switches, unsure for a moment, before flicking several into the "on" position.

The attraction's special effects lights ignited, bathing the walls in long shadows, projections, and warped, colored visuals. Combined with the smoke, the building's maze-like layout became harder to navigate, and Cooper slowed.

"Can I get a sound check?"

Truman grabbed the camera tablet and went from camera to camera, hitting the "Play Sound" icon at each one. Screams, laughs, moans, shrieks and other terrifying noises moaned hauntingly from the speakers. Almost as an afterthought, Truman grabbed his phone and played a sound clip through the speaker mounted in Springtrap's torso. He had found a recording that had been made of the failures of transmissions in cars, metal on metal scraping from a ship's engine, and other grating noises to create a mechanical screech that made his hair stand on end. It burst from Springtrap's chest just as he caught up to Cooper.

"Oh shit!" Cooper cursed, whirling around and staring up into Springtrap's glowing eyes. He immediately began laughing, lifting his radio to his mouth. "Good work on Springtrap, Tru, I damn near pissed myself." He patted the robot proudly.

In the office, Truman sighed with relief. The radio squawked again.

" _You actually gonna tell us what you did to program him?_ " Jeff asked. The guard gulped, keying his own radio.

"Uuuuh..." he began, but was immediately cut off by Cooper.

" _Another time, Jeff, another time. All that matters is that he works like a charm! Nice job, bud!_ " Truman smiled weakly at the praise. " _So who wants to have a go before we open?_ " The radio squelched.

" _Truman, definitely_ ," said Jeff, the mischief in his voice evident even through the radio's distortion.

"I... already did a run. By myself," Truman lied lamely.

" _Oh, ho ho, buulll_ shit _Truman,_ " Jeff replied teasingly, " _You and I both know you've never left that office through all that testing._ "

"I tested Springtrap," Truman argued.

" _From the office. C'mon, don't be a wimp,_ " Joe challenged, picking up his radio for the first time that night.

" _Yeah,_ " Jeff agreed. Cooper spoke next, chuckling.

" _Ooooh, you gonna take that, T?_ " he asked.

Truman sat in silence, drumming his fingers on the armrests of his chair apprehensively. His coworkers continued their taunting, and finally the guard sighed. He keyed his radio.

"Alright, alright, I'm on my way to the front," he said, and set the walkie on his desk.

Truman walked through the doorway to the office, squinting slightly through the fog, which had grown thicker. Lights flashed off to the sides, illuminating a mounted costumed head of the Foxy mascot. Truman flinched despite himself. Aside from the warped carnival music, the halls were quiet, and the unwilling patron didn't run into Springtrap, or any of his coworkers for that matter as he reached the start of the attraction.

A security camera to his left flashed its red LED. Someone made it to his office. Hopefully Cooper, as he wouldn't record the events on his phone for later use. Truman shakily nodded at the camera and started forward.

Despite having worked in the building for two weeks and seeing each piece come together, everything took a turn for the horrifying when the fog rolled in, the lights went out, and the darkness lurked just a few feet away. Truman took small steps, cursing under his breath at his having been forced to do it. And from the creeping feeling on the back of his neck, Springtrap was following his orders to the letter, quietly stalking him. Truman rounded the first corner, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Glowing white eyes (Springtrap's) shone at the end of the hallway. The right one flickered, before they vanished. Truman shuddered, but pressed on, lest his coworkers never let him live it down. A bloodcurdling scream blared from right next to him, and Truman jumped a mile as he felt his cheeks redden. He was sure the others were laughing. He continued until he reached the corner, turning and bracing himself for Springtrap to leap out at him. Nothing. A large shadow moved at the edge of what was visible in the corridor ahead, fading into the black.

Truman began to tremble as he continued on, noticing that the music playing in the background had cut out. It was silent except for his careful footsteps. Large footsteps sounded, rapidly, running in his direction, and a gust of wind sent Truman to press against the wall as something rushed past him with what sounded like squeaking wheels. He whirled around but was met with a children's drawing, smiling tauntingly back at him. He took a steadying deep breath, then another, and kept walking. At least he knew where Springtrap was in relation to him.

 _Just make it to the end and then_ I'll _be the one scaring people,_ Truman thought to himself, _Just get to the end._

The music had started again, but it wasn't a track Truman had heard before. It was almost like a music box melody, Grandfather's Clock if he wasn't mistaken. Puzzlement briefly overrode his fear, and he looked up at the ceiling where the speakers were mounted curiously, and froze. A haunting new decoration had been added, it seemed, and it was a damn good one.

A mangled mess of parts clung to the ceiling, a white fox head much like the one that was in the box in his office. It looked like a broken animatronic, hanging upside down like a spider while the fox head grinned toothily at him. Radio distortion sounded, the hissing static and partial bursts of music and speech sounding like a radio that was switching through all the stations at a rapid pace. Truman quickly strode forward, eager to leave that sight behind as headache set in. Unnoticed to him, the fox vanished.

Now on a razor's edge, Truman rounded the last corner, and smack into Springtrap. The piercing metallic screech sound effect played, albeit late, and the guard nearly leapt out of his skin, falling backwards onto his rear with a shriek. Springtrap paid no attention to the sound. Instead, the corners of his mouth jerked upwards at the sight of his best friend, and the rabbit took a step forward eagerly, helping Truman stand. The guard clung to the animatronic instinctually, taking ragged breaths as adrenaline surged through his system.

"H-hey, S-Spring," Truman greeted, jittery, "G-good job." The skeletal grin widened, and a hand was raised as if to touch him, but instead it hung for several moments before falling limply to the animatronic's side. The guard blinked up at Springtrap's face, but it had resumed its neutral expression.

Cooper, Jeff, and Joe rounded the corner from the far end of the hall. Jeff and Joe were still recovering from laughing, it seemed, partially doubled-over and giggling. Cooper wore a broad smile, walking up and putting an arm around Truman's shoulders.

"Ni-i-icely done, Tru," he said, "Nearly made it all the way, what a trooper." Truman smiled despite himself, glancing back at Springtrap, who continued to stare blankly.

"The look on your face!" Jeff said, lapsing into a laughing fit, "Can't sell that Cooper, it was _priceless_." Joe laughed his agreement, but didn't comment further. Truman glared, and shoved off Cooper's arm.

"Whatever, you had your fun," Truman grumbled, and turned to Cooper, "So, how long until we open?"

Cooper checked his watch.

"About... forty-five minutes," Cooper replied, "Plenty of time for you to go again!" Jeff and Joe laughed again.

"I'll pass, thanks," Truman replied. Cooper shook his head good-naturedly.

"Alright, we'll leave you to your office," he said, "C'mon, Joe, Jeff, let's go make sure the lobby is all setup." Jeff nodded, wiping his eyes. He clapped Truman on the shoulder as he passed.

"You're a good sport," he said, still chuckling. Joe mimed a screaming face over his brother's shoulder, earning a glare from Truman.

"Grow up," Truman muttered under his breath, and the two were gone, following their boss down the hallway.

Truman turned on a heel and strode towards his office. After a short pause, Springtrap followed silently. The guard sat on his chair with a sigh, leaning backwards and staring at the ceiling. He sat in silence for several moments before pulling out his phone, opening his note-taking app.

After realizing that "Tsol" was not a name, but rather the word "Lost" backwards, Truman had quickly written down everything he remembered in an attempt to make sense of it, and copying it onto his phone. By now, he had added his own ideas to the events. He stared down at the ramblings, which read:

 **-Am I going insane? Seeing visions, getting headaches, and GHOSTS. But others saw it too...**

 **-"Tsol"= "Lost"**

 **-What's lost? Is someone lost? Feel like I'm being told something. Maybe find something? Someone?**

 **-Ghosts? Is this place haunted? Not that old. I don't know.**

 **-Smiling face: Brief, but seen by Cooper, Jeff, and Joe. Not crazy?**

 **-Bear thing: "Tsol". Is this thing Lost? Is Tsol its name? Why did I see this? Looked animatronic, like Spring.**

Truman reread his notes, deep in thought. Crazy as it sounded, he truly felt as if he was being told something, that there was this sort of message, but there wasn't much to go on. Something was lost, but what? He rubbed his temples, and glanced at the maintenance terminal. Sometimes the building felt like it was being held together with tape and good intentions. In the many shifts he had had, something failed at least once. Usually the camera and audio systems, but the ventilation quit out on him twice. He prayed it wouldn't fail tonight. The air went bad fast enough with just himself breathing it.

A whirring sound brought Truman out of his thoughts, and he looked over at Springtrap, staring from the doorway as usual. The guard smiled slightly.

"Hey," he greeted the robot. Springtrap blinked. "You ready for today?" The animatronic cocked his head. Truman gestured for him to step inside the office.

The robot took several steps inside after a small pause, bending slightly as his intact ear brushed the low ceiling. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Springtrap had been doing that a lot recently, Truman had noticed. He had also began gesturing more, and touching things. More and more of what Truman said was understood without a tilt of the head. Hard as it was to believe, the rabbit animatronic was _learning._ The old journal had mentioned learning programs before but this was bordering on pure sapience. The ramifications did not hit the less-than-tech-savvy Truman, but it was enough to understand that it was extremely unusual. At least Springtrap liked him.

Actually, Springtrap liked Truman a lot if the guard really thought about it. The robot never strayed too far from the office and seemed content to just stare at him. It had lost some of the creepy, almost sinister air (although the rabbit's appearance did it no favors), but Truman could feel the glowing white eyes burning into him regardless. Almost absent-mindedly, the guard began to talk to Springtrap constantly, much like now.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Truman said, "I'm nervous too. Big day. Er, night." Springtrap straightened his head. "You remember what to do?"

Springtrap blinked, but gave no semblance of a response. Truman wasn't perturbed.

"Good, good, glad to hear it," he continued, "Just be careful. No being sentient with people, okay?"

Another head tilt and a blink. Truman sighed.

"I think you know what I mean," he told the robot. The radio on the desk squawked once again.

" _Oh, man, there's so many people lined up!_ " Cooper announced cheerfully. Truman's heart sank.

 _Wonderful,_ he thought, thumbing the transmit button. "That's cool."

" _Do you remember your script?_ "

"Scream, ask what people are doing there, tell them to get the hell out while I keep Springtrap 'distracted,'" Truman replied, "Did I leave anything out?"

" _Nope. You ready?"_ Cooper asked, excitement permeating through his entire tone. Truman gulped.

"Not really..."

" _Sweet, because it's SHOW TIME!_ "

And the front doors opened.

* * *

 _Activating "Sneaky"..._

 _Active._

Springtrap lurked in the first series of scare sections. Each hallway served as a separate "zone," with Springtrap appearing only in one. The attraction's narration gave guests the role of investigators, checking out the fake Freddy Fazbear's Pizza after hours to figure out what was going on. The usual special effects would be present, building up to an encounter with Springtrap, who would in turn chase them out of the building. That was what Truman had instructed. Then somebody walked up behind him.

"Hey Spring," the person greeted. The voice sounded familiar, but when Springtrap turned, he found a man wearing a red fox head and a black t-shirt and jeans. He tilted his head.

 _Who is this?_ he wondered. The sound of footsteps and a scream triggering at the start of the hallway brought things back into focus. Springtrap backed up and sat in wait just around the third corner. The man wearing the fox head dashed ahead and out of sight.

 _"Raaah!_ " came his voice, coupled with a guy's startled yell. A woman laughed.

"Really, Cory?" she asked, "C'mon, this is not that scary."

"Y-yeah," came Cory's nervous reply.

"Jeez, lights? Fog? Spooky noises? This is starting to feel like a rip-off," the woman complained. The lights up ahead flashed, and a voice that reminded Springtrap of the man with the computer gave a loud scream.

"Help! Help me!" he shrieked.

 _Assistance needed, trigger word "Help"_

 _Moving to assist..._

Springtrap strode quickly to the source of the noise. Someone was in trouble.

"You gotta help me, please!" the voice begged, "Get me out of here before it finds me!"

The woman laughed. "Sorry dude." She was still chuckling when she rounded the corner, dragging her date behind her, and in front of Springtrap. Her face fell when she realized she was eye level with the top of his torso, and she slowly looked up into the rabbit's eyes. Behind her, the man who went by Jeff, covered in red stuff, smiled triumphantly. Nobody was in danger, this guy worked here, and didn't appear in any real distress.

 _Activating "Sneaky"... Active_

Springtrap raised his arms, fingers splayed out like claws, and lunged at the couple. The dreadful metallic screech burst from the speaker in his chest. The man screamed, long and loud as the color drained from the woman's face. She wrapped her hand around her date's arm and pulled him past the robot, nearly running. Springtrap gave chase, keeping his arms raised. The pair moved faster, ducking around a corner when the special effects lights shut off, leaving the hallway in total darkness.

Night vision allowed Springtrap took keep moving as the couple stopped short, slinking past them, just brushing against the man's shoulder. He flinched, pushing up against the opposite wall. This setup had been run before. In a few seconds, the lights would turn back on, setting up another Springtrap jump-scare. And indeed they did, spotlights activating and illuminating the animatronics' fearsome visage. The metallic screech played again, and the man and woman screamed.

"That thing's real!" declared the woman, and she began pulling her date in the opposite direction, back towards the entrance. Springtrap followed, as ordered.

* * *

"Uh oh, they're going the wrong way," Truman said to the desk fan as he watched the events unfold on the cameras. He looked up at the spinning blades. "Duty calls."

The fan did not reply, but ever dedicated to its job, continued to create a slight breeze even as Truman got up from his chair and dashed out into the halls.

* * *

Springtrap continued to pursue the couple, nearly returning to the point where he first encountered them, when Truman called out from behind him.

"Hey! Over here!" he said. Springtrap turned and the couple stopped their flight. "Um, you go past while I, uh, distract it." The delivery was awkward at best, but the guard pressed on. "Hey! Hey! Kill me! Um..."

Springtrap cocked his head in confusion.

 _What?_

"Just get over here!" Truman hissed, before turning to the couple. "Run down that way, there's a safe exit by the office. Get going!"

Springtrap turned and headed towards Truman. The couple took advantage and continued past them, through the rest of the attraction, and out the exit. The guard began laughing.

"You got 'em good," he praised, "Ready for the next group?"

The corners of Springtrap's mouth twitched upwards.

 _Yes._

* * *

Cooper took off his Foxy head, wiping off the sweat that had pooled on his forehead, and smiled proudly as he stood outside the entrance to Adventure Park. The line for Fazbear's Fright snaked at a surprising length, and the first few groups to go inside certainly were terrified. Springtrap was doing a fantastic job so far.

 _I hope Truman'll tell us how he did it,_ he thought, not for the first time that night. He turned his Foxy head around in his hands The project leader couldn't resist donning an outfit of his own and jumping at people, but it was small change compared to their animatronic. He had to hand it to Fazbear Entertainment: shady or not, they made some damn good robots.

"Hey! Hey you, with the Foxy head!" a rough voice called out. Cooper looked out over the crowd, and spotted an older-looking man storming up to him.

He was conservatively dressed in a blue zip-up jacket and jeans, and seemed to be in relative good shape. His hair was parted on the right side, looking like most of the parents that visited Adventure Park. The only difference was his eyes, which seemed distant, lacking all emotion except for anger. He had the appearance of a shell-shocked veteran, looking but not really seeing. The lines on his face made him look older than he seemed (Cooper assumed early 50s), and a streak of premature gray ran through his hair and dusted the stubble on his face.

"Um, hi," Cooper greeted, "How can I help you?"

"You the guy who runs this joint?" the man demanded angrily.

"That's right. Is there something wrong?"

The man laughed humorlessly. "Something wrong? Something _wrong?_ Yeah there's something wrong, what the hell is all this?" He swept his arm behind him, indicating Fazbear's Fright.

"A haunted house?" Cooper offered, worrying the man had some kind of disability, "You know, where people wear costumes and jump out at you?" He held up the Foxy head for emphasis.

The angry man stared at the head for several long seconds before twisting an angry glare at Cooper.

"This place is sick! Do you have any idea what this place went through? What it meant to people? What it meant to _me?_ " he asked.

Cooper raised his hands up to his chest placatingly. "Whoa, calm down, dude-uh, sir. I assure you that-"

" _No I will not calm down!_ " the man roared, earning concerned stares from the people in attendance, "You're destroying everything they worked so hard for!" He grew increasingly livid, and Cooper hooked his radio off his belt.

"Dalton? Can you send some of your security team to Fazbear's Fright? There's a bit of a _situation_ ," he reported.

The man's eyes widened at the call for security, and he quickly walked away, muttering under his breath. Cooper watched him go, shocked, but shook it off as another group was admitted into Fazbear's Fright. He smiled mischievously and donned the Foxy head, heading for the employee entrance on the side of the attraction. _Duty calls._

* * *

" _SKREEEEAAAHHH!_ "

"Holy shit! Ah ha ha ha, dude, that is _sick!_ "

The group of college students that had trekked through the maze nodded in agreement at their buddy's observation.

"Da-a-amn!"

"Whoooa!"

"Frickin' sweet costume, man!"

"Awesome!"

One member of the group held a video camera, recording their journey through the attraction for later posting on the Internet. Springtrap skirted around them menacingly, but the initial shock had worn off, making the patrons more amicable than afraid. They chuckled appreciatively at this apparent dedication to character. The cameraman swung his device around to follow the animatronic, and it immediately captured his interest. Springtrap dropped his hands, transfixed by the small silver tube with the blinking green LED and the glow coming from the fold-out screen.

He tilted his head curiously, and leaned right up into the camera's lens, shifting his head around to try and look at where the glow came from. The cameraman snickered, keeping the animatronic in frame. After a minute, Springtrap gave up, choosing to stare at the group blankly. An awkward pause settled over the scene as a impromptu staring contest began between the buddies and the animatronic rabbit.

"This thing's freaking me out a little," one chuckled nervously. The more brash of the group shook his head and laughed.

"Alright, man, nice job," he told Springtrap, extending out a hand to shake, "Really, dude, you're freaking scary."

Springtrap stared at the hand for several moments before slowly raising his own. The kid grabbed it and started to shake up and down. Understanding what to do now, Springtrap closed his hand around the guest's. The man's eyes bugged out of his head as his other hand shot up to grab Springtrap's while he screamed out in pain.

"Gaaah! Let go, let _go!_ " he shrieked as a small crackle was heard. He began pulling at the animatronic's vice-like grip until Springtrap released him.

"You okay, Harry?" another member of the group asked.

" _No_ I'm not okay!" Harry whined as he nursed his injured hand. Nothing seemed broken, but the pain was immense. He cast a dagger-filled glare at Springtrap before leading his friends through the rest of the maze. "Guy freaking tried to take my hand off!"

* * *

Truman looked at the young man cradling his hand quizzically as the group walked out of the exit. The guard shrugged, and radioed that the maze was ready for the next group. And alarm suddenly blared from the maintenance terminal, sharp and loud. Truman rolled his chair over to it, reading the screen.

 **System Restart**

 **menu**

 **audio devices**

 **camera system OFFLINE**

 **ventilation**

 **reboot all**

 **exit**

True to the terminal's word, the camera feed on the tablet showed a mess of static and digital snow. Truman grumbled to himself and set the camera program to restart. He looked to the fan.

"Stupid dinosaur technology," he complained. The fan was not offended, and offered no reply other than its constant spinning.

The night guard stared at the tablet, waiting for the feed to return. Several long seconds ticked by, and with each passing moment Truman became more worried that cameras had failed for good. He was just about to call Cooper and explain the situation when the screen flickered to life. Springtrap could be seen, as could a group of younger kids, probably at the absolute minimum of the age requirement, led by two adults. One of the kids appeared to be crying, and it was clear that the animatronic was at a loss of what to do next.

Truman rose from his chair to go help when Springtrap began to move. The robot backed up slowly, hands clasped in front of his chest in what looked to be an expression of worry, although his expression remained blank. Springtrap took several more steps backwards before stepping aside and flattening his back against the wall.

The parents gave the robot an embarrassed smile and moved past him. Springtrap watched them walk past, not moving until the group rounded the corner and out of both his and the camera's view. Truman blinked.

"Whoa," he said. He glanced up at the window to see the group walked past and noticed his faint reflection. He had his hands clasped in front of his chest. "I do that?" he wondered.

The small group walked past, and the frightened kid had calmed down. The parents and the kid's friends offered a meek smile to Truman, who nodded and flashed a thumbs-up. He sat down as he heard the exit door slam shut, sighing.

"Well, that went well," Truman told the fan before finding Springtrap on the camera tablet. "Good job, Spring," he said to the robot's image. The lights in the Security Office flickered. Truman looked up at them curiously before a figure caught his attention.

A chill washed over the guard as he realized he wasn't alone. He found himself staring at what looked like a large robot fox. It was easily as tall as Springtrap, and looked completely battered. The fox lacked a right arm and most of the covering around its limbs had been torn away, exposing the metal underneath. The thing's jaws hung open, exposing a mouth full of sharp teeth as one yellow eye burned into him. But the most curious thing about the robot's appearance was that it looked _burned_. The rusty red of its suit had been covered by a charcoal-black, and the metal appeared to be covered in soot. A smoky smell wafted into the room.

Truman and the fox stared at each other for several seconds, the guard's heart hammering in his chest. A low murmur sounded from behind him, slowly increasing in volume.

" _Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost_..." the voice chanted, almost as a whisper.

Truman sat paralyzed, too frightened to move, as the voice grew louder and louder.

" _Lost, lost, lost, lost, lost_ ," it continued. Truman's throat and mouth ran dry, and he began to tremble.

" _Lost! Lost! Lost! Lost!_ " the voice continued, much louder now, seeming to come from all sides. Truman's eyes stung, but he didn't dare blink.

" _Lostlostlostlostlostlostlost-SAVE THEM!_ " the voice roared, but it was soon drowned out by a metallic screeching as the fox leapt at Truman.

"NOOO!" Truman screamed, throwing his hands in front of him and screwing his eyes shut.

* * *

 **31 Years** **Earlier**

Security guard Mike Schmidt walked into Freddy Fazbear's Pizza as midnight rolled around, a bag of groceries in his hand. Bonnie met him at the door.

"Hiya Mike!" she greeted.

"Hey Bon," Mike replied, giving the robot a one-armed hug, "How'd today go?"

"My arm got stuck, but Arianna got me some oil, so it's all good," Bonnie reported, "How are you?"

Mike shrugged. "Can't complain." He shifted the bag in his hand, the rustling of the plastic getting Bonnie's attention.

"What's that? Food?" she asked. Mike nodded.

"Don't tell Chica, but I'm getting a bit tired of pizza. I know a few things, and we do have a kitchen here, so I was gonna try and make my own dinner tonight," he explained.

"Can I help?"

Mike smiled at the request.

"Sure! Let's go, I'm starved," he said.

The pair crossed the Dining Area, passing Freddy in the process.

"Good evening, Michael," the bear greeted with a smile.

"Hi Freddy," Mike returned, and pushed open the swinging doors to the Kitchen.

Chica was already inside, barely visible in the low light, clanging through pots and pans disinterestedly. She turned her head around at Mike and Bonnie's entrance, night vision making her eyes glow.

"Hey," she said simply, then turned back to the cabinet of pots.

"Hey," Mike returned, setting his bag on a nearby counter, "Do you have a frying pan in there?"

Cookware clanged around for several moments before Chica pulled out the pan.

"Right here," she said, "Whatcha need it for?" Mike gestured to the grocery bag.

"Cooking," he explained.

"I'm helping!" Bonnie added, moving to a different cabinet, "What else do you need, Mike?"

"Uh, hang on..." he said, pulling out a piece of paper and reading from it, "I got the pan, so... a spatula and a knife."

Bonnie opened a metal drawer and retrieved the spatula. "Knives are in this one," she said, crossing the kitchen and opening another drawer but refusing to touch the contents. Mike grabbed a decent size blade.

"Thank you," Mike said, and turned around, running into a wall of yellow.

"So whatcha' makin'?" Chica asked. Mike skirted around the animatronic and back to his groceries.

"I'm making a hamburger," Mike explained. Chica moved to stare over his shoulder.

"Hamburger, huh?"

"Yes," Mike unpacked a half-pound of ground beef, aware of the yellow robot looming behind him. He looked over his shoulder. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't know you could cook," Chica observed.

"Yeah, well, you can't be the only one," Mike replied, slicing off a chunk of beef with the knife before flattening it into a disk in his hands. "Bonnie, can you put the pan on the stove for me, please?"

"On it!"

The security guard turned cook cut off another chunk of meat and flattened it into another patty. Chica moved around the island, staring at him intently.

"Where'd you learn?" she asked.

"My mom," Mike replied, shooting the chicken a weird look.

Chica nodded, and picked up the other patty. It squished immediately in her grip.

"Ew," she said, dropping it in a heap onto the counter and shaking her hand.

"Gee, thanks," Mike sighed. Chica rolled her eyes, but continued to watch the guard with a critical eye.

Mike tried to ignore it as he went about frying up his hamburger patty. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"Chica, do you ever wash your hands before you make food?" he asked.

Chica blinked.

"Uh, like, with water and stuff? Not good to get in things like my joints? Of which my hands have a lot of?" she asked, emulating a sarcastic tone, "Oh, yeah, _totally._ All the time."

"Don't be a smartass," Mike replied, "Wait, so that's a no on the hand-washing?". Chica imitated a sigh.

"Yeah, Mikey. That's a big no. Why?"

Mike turned to look at Chica, seeing the grime and stains that peppered her yellow costume. And the dark brown ones on her hands and arms. He swallowed the vomit that began creeping up his throat.

"Mike? Are you okay?" Bonnie asked.

"Fine," Mike replied, turning green before muttering, "Oh that is so gross."

Chica brought him out of wallowing in his disgust.

"Looks like you're burning something over there," she observed, pointing at the patty that had started to smolder.

Mike cursed, shutting off the stove. He examined the meat.

"Eh, not too bad," he said. Chica's voicebox clicked loudly, resembling a scoff, and he frowned. "Shut up." Bonnie passed the guard a plate, and he nodded in thanks.

With the main trial of actually cooking the patty out of the way, Mike quickly assembled the hamburger. He presented it to Bonnie and Chica.

"Well?" he asked, showing his handiwork, "What do you think? Not bad for a first-timer, eh Chica?"

The chicken shrugged, and Bonnie put a hand to her chin, narrowing her eyes and closely scrutinizing the sandwich. "I'll be honest, Mike, this is the weirdest looking pizza I've ever seen."

Chica's laughter could be heard from the parking lot.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey all. Got an update for Night Eight for ya. Things are getting spooky in Fazbear's Fright, way more than poor Truman could've ever bargained for. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and being patient with my slowness once again, and I look forward to seeing you in the next update.**_

 _ **Oh, and a quick little thing: To all the Five Nights at Freddy's fans that play on the Lichcraft Creative server on Minecraft, hello! I'm HAWX13!**_

 _ **-DeltaV "That self-promotion was smooth as f**k."**_


	6. Chapter Five: Now Isn't This Familiar?

**Chapter Five: Now Isn't This Familiar?**

Truman's eyes cracked open. His arms were still raised defensively and it took a several seconds for him to gain the courage to lower them. A quick glance around the room revealed that the fox animatronic had disappeared.

"I'm... alive..." the guard said to himself, touching his torso to make sure. "What the fuck was that?"

The camera tablet remained on his lap, the heavy device withstanding the force of Truman's flinching. Its screen was still tuned to the security camera and displayed Springtrap walking out of frame. For several minutes Truman just sat, staring and trying to process what exactly happened. Was he hallucinating? Had the ventilation given out, cutting off oxygen?

No, that couldn't be it. He was pretty tired...

Truman rubbed his face with his hands. Several groups passed by, occasionally giving him a curious glance before proceeding through the exit doors. By proxy, Springtrap became completely silent, which was quickly noticed by Jeff and Cooper. The guard still had his head in hands when they both walked up.

"Hey, your speaker bugging out? It's not play-," Jeff stopped upon seeing Truman, "Hey, you okay?"

Truman looked up, color still drained from his face. Cooper's eyes widened.

"Dude, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something," he said. Truman stiffened at the word "ghost."

"...I think I did," Truman replied quietly. Jeff shook his head.

"Nonsense, Tru, ghosts aren't real," he said reassuringly, "But something spooked you. What's up?"

Truman sighed. "You're not going to believe me."

Jeff shrugged. "Probably not, but might as well give it a shot."

"You know I'll believe ya, T," Cooper said encouragingly.

Truman took a breath.

"Well, I was looking down at the cameras, watching Springtrap, when I get this funny feeling," Truman explained, "So I look up and I see a... robot, like Springtrap, but it looked like a dog or a fox, just standing in the corner of the office."

Cooper and Jeff exchanged a glance, and Truman frowned.

"You don't believe me," he said. Jeff shook his head.

"No, no, we believe you saw something, but as for what it is, well..." he trailed off. Cooper stepped in.

"Tell you what, Tru, go head on home. We'll finish up here, and you take tomorrow off, get some rest. Come on back the next day, get away from all of," he gestured around the office, "this. Get your head back, okay?"

Truman mulled the offer over for a moment before nodding.

"Alright, good idea," he said, "Maybe I'm just tired."

Cooper nodded encouragingly.

"Go on, get out of here," he said, "We'll hold down the fort for ya."

Truman packed up his stuff, glancing out at the darkened hallway as another patron screamed in fright. Cooper sat in the chair, watching the cameras, as Jeff returned to the attraction route. The guard couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched as he stepped through the back exit.

* * *

A new sensation filled Springtrap as yet another person recoiled at the very sight of him. He was doing his programmed tasks, and doing it quite well, his algorithms reported. The animatronic rabbit began to feel a sort of... satisfaction, even if he didn't quite recognize it yet.

This newly discovered emotion made Springtrap compelled to go check on Truman, see if he felt the same way. He ignored the group he had already encountered, following behind at a steady pace, inadvertently ushering them through the rest of the maze. Several turns later and the window to the security office came into sight. Springtrap strode quickly over to the open doorway, leaning through it, corners of his mouth arcing upwards as the guard in the chair turned to face him.

 _Facial matching failed._

Springtrap froze. This wasn't Truman, but rather Cooper. The man stared back curiously.

 _Beginning search. Facial recognition active._

Springtrap scanned the office, but Truman wasn't in the small room. He stepped away from the doorway and looked down the hall. Not there either. The robot picked his way through the entire maze, but his friend was nowhere to be found, and Springtrap found it odd. Truman, at least recently, had always said "good night, Spring," or some variation of the phrase before departing.

This break in routine was unusual, and Springtrap's logic programs determined that this demanded concern. Something was wrong, even if he didn't understand what. Hopefully his friend could explain it, if he could be found.

Cooper, meanwhile, followed the animatronic rabbit, reporting its odd behavior to Jeff and Joe.

"It's just wandering around, no rhyme or reason," he explained, "You're gonna have to tell the guys at the door to hold the guests for a second."

"Sure thing, boss," Joe replied.

"I'm on my way to check it out," Jeff added, "Probably just a bug in the pathfinding."

Springtrap continued to look diligently, picking his way through the layout of the attraction three more times, searching every shadow, behind every prop and set piece. No Truman. These results automatically triggered a brand new facial expression for the robot, and the corners of his mouth drooped downwards.

By this point, Jeff had arrived, carrying a small laptop that had the necessary diagnostic software required by Springtrap's operating system. He found it on an older website that had been dedicated to collecting every scrap of evidence left by the pizzeria. A connecting cable was wrapped around his arm, the ends swinging as he walked briskly to keep up with Springtrap.

"Slow him down, Cooper," Jeff ordered.

"On it." Cooper jogged and stepped in front of Springtrap. The animatronic looked down at him for barely a second before the man found himself unceremoniously shoved aside. "Okay... That didn't work."

Jeff broke into a jog as well, plugging one end of the cable into the laptop and holding the other at the ready. Enough of the back of Springtrap's suit head had rotted away to expose the port it connected to. Jeff reached up and jammed the cable forward.

Springtrap's motion threw off his aim, wedging the end of the cable in a gap in the robotic skull. The rabbit kept walking, and kept searching, reaching the Security Office once again, pulling Jeff along by his computer.

"Damn!" Jeff cursed, pulling at the wire. The connector remained stuck fast as Springtrap suddenly came to a realization: If Truman wasn't _inside_ the building, then he must be...

Springtrap shoved open the exit door, stepping out determinedly into the parking lot. Immediately his facial recognition system was bombarded with information as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned in the robot's direction. A wave of realization swept across the crowd, and Springtrap came on the receiving end of a standing ovation as the attraction was praised.

But the animatronic paid them no mind (and really, he had no idea what they were doing anyway), and remained focused on the task at hand.

 _Scanning... No match found_

 _Scanning... No match found_

 _Scanning... No match_ _found_

Cooper and Jeff awkwardly waved at the crowd as they continued their pursuit of Springtrap, but found themselves pushed back as the people began to swarm the robot. With the flurry of activity and despite the animatronic's size, he was soon lost in the swell of people. Cooper and Jeff shared a glance.

"...Shit."

* * *

Mike Schmidt sighed and rubbed his face, leaning back into the plastic seating of his booth in a diner located not too far from the gates of Adventure Park. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of him, and he stared into it as the waitress walked up.

"You sure you don't want some coffee, hun?" she asks, "You look like you could use some."

"No, thank you," Mike replied, "Not much of a coffee guy."

The waitress shrugs, and readies her pen over her pad.

"Well, you look like you could use some comfort food. We still got some pie left over, and our pancakes are just to die for."

"No, no, really, I'm-"

"I'll get you some pie," the waitress said, turning and walking towards the dessert case. Mike sighed, turning to stare out the window.

 _I can't believe, after all of that, their reward is a haunted house_ , Mike thought. _That's what people will remember, all the terror, none of what made Freddy's great._

His memories of the animatronics were bittersweet at best. Life was exciting then, he felt he had a responsibility, something to take pride in. Mike slumped lower in his chair. So much... He missed them so much. Bonnie's bright smile, Chica's jokes, Freddy's obsessive compulsiveness. Even Foxy, when he was having a good day. _They didn't deserve it. None of them did._

After the pizzeria closed, Mike got promoted at his job at the grocery store, becoming part of the management. From there, he was able to get a much more lucrative position working for a large restaurant chain. They were a chain of pizzerias, but Mike made sure they had nothing to do with animatronics. The stigma of Freddy Fazbear's hung over him for years, but as the story faded into urban legend, people lost interest. The public forgot about it, but even decades later, Mike could not.

He stirred his now lukewarm hot chocolate with the knife from his table setting. The dulled metal sloshed softly through the murky brown liquid, and a glaze slid across his eyes as he remembered the good days. He hardly noticed the waitress returning with the pie.

"Here ya go hon, on the house, courtesy of Bobby," she said, setting the plate down in front of Mike. She followed his gaze out the window, before gasping in shock. "What on God's great Earth is that?"

Mike started. "Huh?" he asked, and the waitress pointed. Mike looked at the window, and his heart began thudding hard under his chest. He wiped his eyes quickly, but he was clearly not mistaken. Mike bolted from his booth, leaving the confused waitress behind as he raced out the door.

* * *

Springtrap's path finding was now thoroughly confused. Groups of people triggering his facial recognition had brought him down this street, but none of the surroundings looked remotely familiar. The rabbit looked up into the night sky. The ceiling appeared to be missing as well. The area the robot now found himself in was strange, and the odd people he happened upon did not react like those back in the building. Yes, the guests in the attraction also screamed and ran away, but there was always an underlying laugh. Now people shirked away from him, giving him odd looks he did not recognize. A thought crossed across his CPU.

 _I miss Truman._

"Hey!"

Springtrap's head whipped around, snapping his attention to the direction the voice came from. A man sprinted up to him, stopping short and looking the robot up and down. A smile curved his lips and liquid began to seep from his eyes before he suddenly cast a worried glance at the street around them. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.

"Wait a second, aren't you supposed to be at that amusement park?" the man asked.

Springtrap titled his head in response, and the man ran a hand through his hair.

"Can't you speak?"

Springtrap straightened his head and did not move further. A few people that had heard the man's shout looked out their windows or from across the way. The man noticed and looked up at Springtrap.

"It's getting late, the park's probably closed down by now," he said, "I'll get you back there in the morning, but we need to get you somewhere where you won't attract attention. Come on, follow me." The man grabbed Springtrap's arm and tried to pull him along but the robot would not budge.

"I'm trying to help you," the man insisted, "We'll get you back there tomorrow, I promise, but we need to get going." He pulled again and this time Springtrap began to follow him. The man set a quick pace but Springtrap found no difficulty in matching it. Several people gawked at them as they walked by, but were ignored. After several minutes of walking, the man turned around.

"Oh, I'm Mike, by the way," the man said, "Mike Schmidt."

* * *

 **30 Years Earlier**

" _Miiiiiike,_ " Chica whined, "I'm _booooored._ "

Mike Schmidt sighed. He, Chica, and Bonnie were gathered in the Dining Area. Bonnie was standing next to one of the tables, open box of crayons in front of her, and scribbling on just one of the many sheets of paper stacked around her. Chica stood on the stage and had been pacing back and forth. Mike sat in a nearby chair, reading a novel he had brought along. He shut it with a snap.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, and twisted in his chair to look at Bonnie, "What about you, Bon?"

Bonnie held up the piece of paper she had been drawing on. Instead of being a full-page image like she usually produced, it was instead a series of doodles, including a few complicated patterns made out of zig-zagging lines.

"Looks like a 'yes' to me, Mikey," Chica commented. Bonnie carefully set down the crayon and paper.

"Why don't we play a game?" she suggested, "We could play hide and seek."

"Did that already," Chica said.

"Tag?"

"Same thing."

"What about Simon Says?"

"We do that sort of stuff all the time," Chica complained, "We need something else." The trio thought in silence for several moments.

"I got nothing," Mike said, throwing his hands up in defeat, "I think it's safe to say we've explored every possible game to play inside."

Bonnie and Chica exchanged a glance, and Chica strode over to Mike.

"Funny you should mention inside..." the chicken animatronic said. She paused for a few moments, faltering at what to say next. "Bonnie, you ask him."

"Ask me what?" Mike asked, confused. Bonnie clasped her hands in front of her.

"We... want to go outside," Bonnie said, her voice turned down so low Mike had to strain to hear her. His eyes widened.

"No way, uh-uh, absolutely not," he said, shaking his hands and standing up, "Too risky. We can't have people knowing about your sentience." Bonnie crossed her arms.

"But you let Foxy stay with you for days," she pointed out.

"That was different, I had no choice," Mike explained, "And besides, Foxy stayed in my apartment the entire time."

Chica and Bonnie gave each other a knowing look.

"Look," Chica began, holding up a hand to stop Mike's protest. "Bonnie and I are the ones who never get into trouble. We all know who the real troublemaker here is." The trio all cast a glance at the purple curtains covering Pirate Cove, and she continued.

"Freddy won't want to go, and he can keep an eye on Captain Shenanigans over there." Bonnie chimed in.

"You can trust us, Mike, we just really, _really_ want to go outside. You'll be with us the entire time, and we'll get back way before six," she added.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to look at the not-quite-right puppy dog eyes Bonnie and Chica were now attempting to give him. He sighed.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can get Freddy's permission, then we'll give it a shot. I'm not doing anything unless he's onboard," Mike said. As if on cue, the door leading to the Backstage opened and the animatronic bear strode out. Bonnie and Chica hurried up to him.

"Bonnie, Chica," Freddy said, nodding to each of them, "I'm assuming you're about to ask me something." Chica gave him the biggest, most innocent smile her limited expression could allow.

"Right you are, Freddo, right you are," she said, "Hey, is that a new hat? It looks very sharp. And oh my goodness, did you do something new to your suit?"

Freddy's eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, as if trying to see the brim of his signature top hat. He shook his head.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he said, "Come now, just ask the question." Chica and Bonnie looked at each other apprehensively, then back to Mike, who shrugged.

"Can we go outside?" Bonnie blurted. Freddy's eyes widened.

"Outside?" he asked, "Certainly not."

Both Bonnie and Chica looked crestfallen.

"But Freddy-!" they both began.

"No 'buts', you both know the rules," he said, "We are not allowed outside of the restaurant's walls. _Ever._ " Freddy blinked. "...Previous events notwithstanding."

"But what about when Foxy was in trouble?" Bonnie asked, "Or with those policemen?"

Freddy nodded, "Yes, yes, but those were-."

"Also with the mall, and Foxy leaving, and then Foxy leaving _again,_ " Chica listed, ticking the events off one-by-one on her fingers. "Come to think of it, Foxy's gone a lot." Bonnie stepped forward.

"All we want to do is go explore a little, really go out and _see_ stuff," she explained, "Mike'll be with us the entire time, and you can trust us."

Freddy did not reply, mulling the request over for several moments. He imitated a static-filled sigh.

"Alright, very well," he said.

Bonnie and Chica let out a cheer, turning to each other excitedly. Freddy let out a burst of interference, a loud squawking squeal that got their attention.

"But you will not leave Michael's side," he said forcefully, and looked at the clock on the wall, "It is currently just past two o'clock. I expect you both to be back absolutely no later than five-thirty. Understand?"

"Yes, Freddy," Bonnie and Chica chorused, before gleefully turning to Mike.

"Well don't just sit there, Mikey, let's get this show on the road!" Chica exclaimed, dragging the guard out of his chair by his collar.

"Thank you, Freddy!" Bonnie said, hugging the bear. He chuckled.

"Just be safe," he said, "I'll be waiting right here when you get back."

"Avast! Wha' be tha meanin' o' all this here racket?" Foxy asked, sticking his head out between the purple curtains of his Cove. Chica looked over at him, still holding on to Mike.

"Nothing, Foxy, you're not a part of this," she called over. He gave her a confused look, but withdrew back into his Cove. Mike pushed himself free of Chica's grip, only for Bonnie to grab his hand.

"Come on, Mike!" she said, leading him towards the door. Chica followed close behind, her excited grin pulling hard on the wires in her jaw.

Mike could not unlock the doors fast enough before being pulled outside as both Bonnie and Chica dashed out into the night. Freddy chuckled softly to himself as he pulled the double doors shut behind them with a click.

* * *

"Alright, alright, quit pushing me!" Mike protested. He, Bonnie, and Chica stood at the edge of the restaurant's parking lot. "This is not a good idea."

"Oh, you worry too much," Chica told him, and pointed across the street to the small bundle of shops. "Let's go over there."

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza resided near a small commercial district, made up of small Mom and Pop stores as well as fast food chains, haircutters, pet stores, and other assorted local business. The pizzeria dominated one side of the road and had an entire parking lot dedicated to it with a few stores a small distance away on either side. The road going through the center was a large four-lane avenue and featured a grassy median with trees planted at intervals along its length. Just behind the rows of shops lay the residential neighborhood Foxy had terrorized nearly three months ago.

Mike looked at the shops uneasily.

"I dunno... Some of those places are open 24 hours," he said, "Someone might see you."

"We'll be careful," Bonnie insisted, "C'mon, let's go!"

"Alright..."

The guard stood at the edge of the sidewalk, craning his neck left and right to be sure no cars were heading their way. Despite the road being a large thoroughfare, most traffic ceased around one in the morning. Mike took a breath.

"Keep up with me," he said, and dashed out into the street. Bonnie and Chica followed close behind, their heavy footfalls thudding across the asphalt with padded clanks. The grassy median nearly sent both animatronics face-first into the ground, and they both stopped to gain their balance. Mike looked around warily as the rabbit and chicken carefully stepped down off the median before he jogged the rest of the way across the street.

The only nearby business that still had its lights on was a laundromat currently vacant of both patrons and any form of staff. It caught Bonnie's interest immediately. She wandered inside, looking at the rows of washers and dryers.

"What're these things?" she asked.

"Uuuh, washing machines," Mike replied, following her into the small storefront, "You put clothes in them and wash them."

"Oh," Bonnie replied simply, but continued to look around. Mike glanced around warily.

"I thought these places had a person watching all the machines, or something," he said aloud. Chica shrugged from her place in the parking lot, taking in the feeling of being outside.

"I dunno," she told him, "Never been in one of these before."

Bonnie continued to explore the laundromat, fiddling with the machines and pressing every button she came across. Chica walked out into the middle of the parking lot, relishing in having so much free space around her.

"Let's face it, our home's pretty small," Chica observed. Mike walked over to her and crossed his arms.

"Can't imagine being locked up in one place for years," he commented, "I can see why it'd be nice to get away, get into some open space." An idea suddenly clicked in his mind. "That's it!"

Bonnie stuck her head out the laundormat's doorway. She had found two socks (not matching) and had slipped them over the first segment of her ears.

"What's it?" she asked, beating Chica to the punch in asking.

"Take off those socks, I know the perfect place," Mike replied, "Come on, follow me."

* * *

Mike led the two 'bots into the suburbs behind the shopping center and heading for the middle of the development. A small park sat there, little more than a field with some benches, trees, and a concrete picnic area, but it did the job. He stopped at the edge and watched as Chica and Bonnie began to pick their way across the field. Every couple of steps one of them would stop and point something out to the other. Eventually they made it to the very center.

The glow of the streetlamps did not reach the middle of the field, but Mike could still see the glowing of the animatronics' eyes. He watched them explore, feeling a little bit like a father with his kids. Except his kids were seven feet tall and made of metal. And it was the middle of the night.

"Tag! You're it!" he heard Bonnie shout, and watched the small red glows move quickly away from the purple.

"What the-? Bonnie!" Chica chased after the fleeing rabbit. Mike could hear their servos whirring and could just make out their silhouettes in the distance. He chuckled, and kept a lookout. The streets were quiet, crickets could be heard chirping and the surrounding houses were dark. The half-moon in the sky cast a soft blue glow separated by the harsher yellow of streetlights. A breeze picked up, ruffling the leaves in the surrounding trees and making the grass sway. It was actually quite peaceful...

 _CRASH!_ Mike jumped a foot at the loud sound and whirled back around. Bonnie and Chica's chase had taken them into the picnic area where Chica had collided with a metal trash can. The chicken was currently picking herself up off the ground. Mike ran over.

"Jesus, are you okay?" he asked, puffing slightly as he raced up to her. Chica nodded.

"Yeah, just took a tumble," she replied, "Happens to the best of us. Heck, it just happened to me!" She gave Mike a grin as she slowly stood up. The guard was not convinced, and gave her the once-over, squinting in the darkness.

Chica's suit had more wear and tear, but nothing looked serious. Which was good, as Mike would not be looking forward to Nathan's lecture should Chica had damaged herself on his watch.

"Sorry," Bonnie said to her, "I shouldn't have gone this way." Chica shook her head.

"Don't be, I'm fine, don't worry about it," she replied, patting Bonnie on the shoulder with a clunk. Mike looked around nervously.

"Someone had to have heard that," he said, "We should probably head back."

Chica and Bonnie looked disappointed, but both nodded, and followed Mike back towards the pizzeria.

* * *

Freddy looked up from his chair arranging as the front doors to the restaurant opened. He glanced at the clock: 4:12 am.

"You're back early," he observed as Bonnie, Chica, and Mike walked inside.

"Eh, nothing really to _do_ at night," Chica said dismissively.

"Well I'm glad you're back to clean up that mess you left in the Kitchen," Freddy replied.

"Oh, yeah, whoopty-doo," Chica quipped as she pushed open the Kitchen doors.

"It was kind of fun, but Mike's right, it was too dangerous," Bonnie admitted. Freddy nodded sagely.

"Yes, well, all went well, and that's what's important," he said, "And it is nice to take a risk or two, every once in a while."

Mike scoffed.

"You never struck me as the roguish, mischievous type," he said. Freddy simply smiled. Mike clapped his hands together.

"Well, back to work," he said, walking down the East Hall towards his office. Some of the clutter inside had been cleaned, and the items on the desk rearranged.

 _Oh, thanks Freddy,_ Mike thought, sitting down in the rolling chair. It immediately fell apart underneath him, leaving him staring up at the ceiling. A small note had been taped to it, written with one of Bonnie's crayons:

 _:)_

 _-F_

 _"Freddy!_ " Mike roared. The bear's deep, creepy chuckle echoed down the hallway.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Well... It's been an awful long time, hasn't it? Sorry for not updating, I just sort of... lost the will to write. I found myself feeling much less passionate about this series, and kind of with stuff as a whole. I've been writing other stuff on the side, and even those I haven't had any desire to write. It's almost as if I ran out of my supply of creativity, my battery was sapped, and I needed to recharge. I'm still sort of feeling it, so I won't make any promises with the next update, just that it's coming, and it will happen, come hell or high water.**_

 _ **In other news, hey, Sister Location. That's a thing. Can't wait to see what THAT's going to be about. I also read Scott's book, the Silver Eyes (or whatever). It was... interesting. Nothing like I expected. Read like something I'd find on this site, actually. Go figure.**_

 _ **Oh, I also saw a review from a gentleman (or gentlewoman, I don't discriminate) saying they wanted to make a comic of my stories. I wanted to reply to them immediately, but they used a guest account to review, making that not a thing I could do. If you're reading this, Comic Artist Guest, here is my response:**_

 _ **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO IT.**_

 _ **I've also had the honor of having more fan art made for me. You are all amazingly talented people and I thank you. Just not by name.**_

 _ **As far as JANAF news, well, I do intend to incorporate Five Nights at Freddy's 4, and I have an idea for it that will not surprise anyone who has read my series.**_

 _ **And I have another announcement: Left 4 Dead! I have been writing a Left 4 Dead thing on the side, and I'm looking forward to posting that at some point in the future. It won't be taking priority, it being more of an "as the mood strikes me" sort of deal (until JANAF reaches its conclusion. It'll happen, folks!)**_

 _ **Alright, that's enough out of me. Until next time, Delta out.**_

 _ **And damn, it's good to be back.**_

 _ **-DeltaV "The Comeback Tour"**_


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